


Men of Legend

by hells_half_acre



Series: Men of Legend [1]
Category: Merlin (TV), Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Castiel, BAMF Sam, Crossover, Gen, Hurt Merlin, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Possibly Pre-Slash, Protective Arthur, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 12:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hells_half_acre/pseuds/hells_half_acre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a sorcerer summons monsters from another world, Merlin must summon heroes from another world to help save Camelot. Meanwhile, Dean and Sam Winchester didn't even know they were summon-able.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely based off [this prompt](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/30557.html?thread=29670493#t29670493) from the Merlin kinkmeme. Though, obviously I've made the story Gen, as well as the tweak that Merlin knows exactly who he's summoning... well, maybe not _exactly._
> 
> The story takes place between S4 and S5 of Merlin. My goal was to keep the story as canon as possible, but leave the door open for people who would like to imagine that Merlin could diverge from canon afterwards (for those of you who don't like S5.)
> 
> (beta-ed by borgmama1of5.livejournal.com)
> 
> Now being translated into Polish over on fanfic.net: [Legendarnie](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10525060/1/Legendarni) by Quiet_crash
> 
> Now being translated into Chinese here: [原文](http://www.lofter.com/lpost/1ebc8275_10dcb8a5) by JasmineQiu

The spell itself was relatively simple – it was the ornate figures and designs that Merlin had to draw that were the hard part. Gaius had helped clear the furniture out of Merlin’s bedroom, asking the whole time whether Merlin was sure he knew what he was doing. Merlin’s answer was always yes. He was thankful, though, that Gaius never asked whether what he was doing was wise.

The process of painting the designs on the floor and wall was macabre. The sticky blood filled the room with the stench of terror and death. Merlin’s gut twisted at the thought of what sort of magical being would respond to such a thing. But the book had been very specific – the summoning would not work with anything else.

As Merlin performed the last brush stroke, he wondered what language the weird lettering was in. It was not the language of the old religion. It was something Merlin didn’t know, and he knew that was part of the reason Gaius was so on edge.

Gaius had retreated to the main chamber, ready to call the guard with a pre-arranged story should things end badly. It was all down to Merlin. Merlin, who had to wake the King in the morning – something he couldn’t very well do if he were dead.

There could be no turning back now, Merlin thought, focusing on the centre of the design, where there were some familiar letters, though he did not know what they meant in this context. He spoke the summing spell slowly and carefully, waiting for the accompanying swell of magic.

Nothing.

Merlin tried forcing his magic into the spell, but it refused to respond. He thrust the candle into the bowl that held the ingredients for the spell – salt, iron, herbs, ale, leather, oil, and Merlin’s own blood. The contents ignited, burning brightly, but still Merlin felt no magic. Merlin’s heart sank. He threw the burning bowl violently into the centre of the design.

Pointless. He had done all that gruesome work for nothing.

Merlin sighed, looking at the mess he’d made of his room. He’d just have to figure it out himself, as usual. He stepped forward to stomp out the bits of fire before they ate through the floorboards, but before his boot touched the design he realized that only the writing had caught fire, and as he stared, the red flames turned into a bright white light that stung Merlin’s eyes and forced him to look away.

As suddenly as the light had erupted, it was gone. Merlin blinked, his eyes slow to re-adjust to the dim candlelight.

Something looked back at him.

In an instant, Merlin found himself with his back to the wall, a cloth-covered arm pressed against his throat.

“Start talking and this sure as hell better be good.”

Merlin had prepared a speech, full of careful language and humble grovelling. As he looked into angry eyes, he forgot it all.

“I need your help,” he said instead. The fearful squeak in his voice would have to substitute for all the humble pleading.

“Ever hear of a phone?”

“No,” Merlin answered.

There was a snort of possible amusement. As Merlin wondered whether that was a good thing or not, he realized that someone else was moving around the room.

Of course, there _were_ two of them after all.

There was a small grunt from the direction of the window. While Merlin had to stand on a table to look out the high window onto Camelot, the one who was roaming the room simply pulled himself up by the window ledge to peer out.

“What are you?” The arm at his throat pressed tighter.

“Where are we?” the man by window asked at the same time, only his question was less threatening, more curious, and with a note of something that Merlin couldn’t put his finger on.

“I can explain,” Merlin said, gasping for breath around the pressure at his throat. The magic was itchy beneath his skin; the reflex to push the threat away was strong. “Please, if you let me, I can explain. I have a speech and everything-”

Eyebrows raised in disbelief but Merlin was saved when the large shadow by the window spoke.

“Dean.”

A name or a title? The one in front of him was Dean.

“Yeah, okay.” The arm against his throat dropped. Merlin only realized that he had been held on his toes the whole time when his heels hit the floor. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart, rubbing at his poor throat as he did so.

Merlin studied the two men who were now in his chamber. They carried themselves like warriors – intimidating even in their strange clothes. Their trousers were blue, in a material Merlin did not recognize. Dean had a richly dyed shirt of fine linen under a jacket of well-stitched leather, the other a brightly coloured woven shirt the likes of which Merlin had never seen. They were both tall, but the second one was taller, as tall as Percival at least, if not more so. Merlin still couldn’t tell who the elder was; both had eyes older than their bodies.

Merlin lowered his head, as he used to do while speaking with Uther, while the two men looked at him, expectant and wary. Merlin thought of those who came to Arthur to plead for help. He dropped to one knee, then compromised and raised his head to look them in the eye.

“Welcome Warriors. I apologize for summoning you from your realm, but I am in desperate need of your help…” Merlin paused and corrected himself. “ _Camelot_ is in desperate need of your help. We have been besieged by monsters from another world – your world. Our weapons have no effect, and our people are dying. The King-”

“Wait, what?!”

“Camelot?”

“Yes,” Merlin said, then added, “My Lords,” remembering that he was supposed to be polite and humble. Arthur would laugh if he saw Merlin now. No, Arthur would probably kill him without any amusement whatsoever.

“What year is it?” Dean asked.

“It is the second year of King Arthur’s reign,” Merlin replied.

“No, what _year_ is it?” he asked again.

“It is the second year of King Arthur’s-” Merlin repeated slower.

“That won’t work, Dean,” the tall one said, and  narrowed his eyes at Merlin. “Who are you?”

“My name is Merlin.”  Both sets of eyes widened at this. The tall one ran a hand through his long hair.

“Holy shit,” he said, and began to look around the room again. Dean studied Merlin.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some old guy?” he asked.

“You know me?” Merlin’s jaw dropped, not only had his name had been recognized, they knew he was Dragoon, or more likely Emrys. This could be bad.

“Yeah, you’re a legend,” Dean said. “Merlin and King Arthur, the sword in the stone – you know, all that stuff. Only you’re supposed to be old. So, I guess history got that wrong.”

“History?” Merlin said. “How is that-”

“Dean,” the tall one interrupted. “We’re not in the past.”

“What do you mean we’re not in the past?” Dean turned to ask. “We’re in freakin’ Camelot with freakin’ Merlin, in a room lit with candles - it sure as hell looks like the past to me.”

“Look at the writing,” the other replied, pointing to Merlin’s meticulous painting on the floor and walls. “Sideways, not across.”

“Use your words, Sam,” Dean sighed. “You know, I can’t read this crap as well as – hold up, is that Enochian?”

“Yeah, it’s an inter-dimensional summons.”

“How the hell can we be summoned?” Dean exclaimed. Merlin watched as he touched the writing with his fingers.

“Is this blood?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “The spell was very specific. I nearly didn’t have enough, what with the boy only being seven and-”

 “What?” The stare Dean turned on him was chilling. “What boy?”

Merlin hastened to explain. “The blood of the innocent-”

“Did you bleed a boy dry to summon us here?”

This wasn’t going well.

“No,” Merlin said. “I mean, yes, but-“

Merlin found himself thrust against the wall again before he could speak another word. This is probably why Gaius had insisted that he stick to the speech.

As if he knew Merlin was thinking of him, Gaius coughed in the other room, and the two warriors simultaneously turned their heads toward the door.

“Who else is here?” Dean asked him, his voice cold and furious.

“Gaius, the court physician. I– I don’t know what you think I did, but-”

“Shut-up,” Dean’ forearm cut off Merlin’s air just enough to enforce the message. “Sam, go check it out.”

Sam nodded and left the room. Merlin considered whether or not he should use magic to free himself. He honestly didn’t know whether Gaius was in any danger – the warriors were supposed to help. Though the dragon had warned him-

“Dean,” Sam called from other room. “Let Merlin breathe and come look at this.”

Merlin gasped as soon as Dean released him, and stumbled out of the room in his wake. Gaius was standing at the end of the table near Rhodri’s feet. Sam had pulled the sheet back. Merlin didn’t want to look at the sight again, so instead he observed Dean’s reaction. The warrior closed his eyes and swore under his breath, before rubbing a hand down his face.

“Let me guess,” Sam said to Gaius, “the only thing missing was his heart.”

“That’s correct ... My Lord,” Gaius said, looking quickly over to Merlin for direction.

“Our introductions were interrupted,” Merlin said.

“Sam,” Sam said, pointing at himself, he then pointed to the other warrior, “my brother, Dean. Are there others?” he gestured to the body.

“I am Gaius, the court physician,” Gaius replied, though Sam hadn’t asked. “And yes, there have been many victims of the attacks.”

“Where are they?” Dean asked, looking around the room as though Merlin had hidden the other bodies under a table.

“Laid to rest, or awaiting their burial,” Gaius said. “We only brought in young Rhodri in order to extract the blood for the summoning.

“I tried to tell you,” Merlin interjected. “The spell was specific. I had to use the blood of an innocent victim of the attacks. Rhodri was the most recent.”

Merlin was thankful when Sam carefully pulled the sheet back over the young boy.

“Okay,” Dean said, “family meeting time, if you’ll excuse us.” He graced Merlin and Gaius with an insincere smile and then nodded towards Sam, “Sam, a word in the summoning room, please.”

“Back in a minute,” Sam smiled at them, a little more genuinely, and followed his brother into Merlin’s chamber.

“So...” Gaius said in the silence, “those are the legendary warriors?”

“Yes,” Merlin said, “They’re not exactly what I was expecting, believe me.”

Gaius had been against this plan, but now that it was done, there was no going back. They lapsed into an awkward silence, listening to the murmurs from behind the closed door until:

_“No, seriously, what the hell!?”_

_“I don’t know!”_

Merlin glanced towards his room and fidgeted.

“Do you think I should go in there?” he asked Gaius.

“Not if you value your life.”

*

 “So, you’re saying we just do whatever he wants?” Dean asked.

“I’m saying I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Sam sighed. “Unless you know how to un-summon yourself.”

“I didn’t even know I could be summoned!” Dean said.

“And I did?” Sam asked. “Listen, Merlin-”

“If that _is_ Merlin,” Dean interrupted. “Did you look at him? He’s just a kid, Sam.”

“Yeah, well that kid happened to know how to summon us, happens to live in a place called Camelot that’s ruled by a king named Arthur – and yeah, _knew how to summon us_ ,” Sam repeated. “He’s our best bet for someone who might know how to un-summon us, so I say we help the guy out – and hope that he sends us on our way after. Look, you saw the dead kid out there – they’ve got a werewolf loose. We can hunt those in our sleep, no big deal.”

Dean was doing that calming breaths thing, so Sam knew that he had won this argument – or at least that Dean had stopped freaking out and started thinking rationally again. Either way, Sam was counting it as a win.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Dean said. “So... Camelot?”

“Apparently,” Sam said. “Did you look out the window?”

Dean’s answer resulted in Sam  crouched with his hands laced together under a dirty boot, as he gave Dean a boost so that he could look out the window.

“Holy shit, Sammy,” Dean said. “We’re in a freakin’ castle. This is awesome.”

 “You done sightseeing? Your heavy ass is hurting my hands.”

“Fine, quit your bitching,” Dean grumbled as he stepped down. “Come on, let’s go talk to Merlin.”

Merlin was just coming in the other door when Sam and Dean returned to the larger chamber. The dead kid’s body was gone. Sam assumed Merlin must have taken the corpse somewhere. The old man, Gaius, Sam reminded himself, was stoking the fire.

Merlin smiled at them hesitantly but hopeful, but Dean spoke before Merlin or Sam could say a word.

“You can send us back, right?”

Sam watched as Merlin’s whole face fell, as though the very universe had betrayed him.

“But we need your help,” Merlin pleaded. “You’re supposed to...”

“Oh my god,” Dean said. “We’re going to help, stop looking at me like that. You’re worse than Sam. I just meant after – after we kill the bad guy, you can send us back, right?”

“Oh.” Merlin’s smile was ear to ear and nearly blinding. “Yes, of course Yes. Thank you...yes. So you’ll help?”

“Yes,” Sam confirmed, and as if that was the magic signal, Merlin whirled into action, grabbing a bucket of water and a mop from the corner and heading towards the summoning room as he spoke.

“Great, great, now, first is clothes – you can’t see Arthur looking like that,” then Merlin disappeared from sight and there were words Sam didn’t understand, followed by the sound of water sloshing and a mop hitting the floor, noises which continued as Merlin rejoined them empty-handed. “…Never thought I’d see another person as big as Percival…and Dean’s about Leon’s size, don’t you think, Gauis?”

Dean nudged Sam, motioning towards the door to the smaller room. Sam looked back and saw the mop moving on its own in the candlelight, mopping up the blood used in the summoning ritual.

“Full on sorcerer’s apprentice,” Dean said softly.

 “-we’ll have to say you’re mercenaries, of course,” Merlin continued, “since I know from experience that saying you’re a noble only buys you a day or two before someone figures out that you don’t exist and then it’s jail or exile and me burning at the stake, and I’ve managed to avoid that for eight years-”

“Wait, what?” Sam said.

“I’ll just go get your disguises,” Merlin said, already at the door with a large bag slung over his shoulder. “Then we’ll go over the story for the King. Back in a moment!”

“What?” Dean said to the back of the door and Merlin’s fading footsteps in the hall.

Sam turned to the only other person in the room. Gaius was also casting an annoyed look at the back of the door, one eyebrow raised.

“Disguises?” Sam asked.

“You don’t exactly blend in,” Gaius answered. Sam looked down at his bright plaid shirt and jeans.

“Yeah, but-” Sam started.

“Do we get to dress up like knights?” Dean asked from beside him. Sam turned slowly to stare at his brother.

“Mercenaries,” the old man said.

Dean looked a little disappointed – but shrugged, and then made the face that meant he was trying to act like he wasn’t super excited about something.

Sam felt a headache coming on.

*

It was nearly dawn when Merlin finally decided the brothers were ready to meet the King. He had carefully explained the story he had invented for them. He dressed them in cast-off armour that had once belonged to Leon and Percival, hiding their foreign clothes along his magic book underneath the floor boards in his room. The warriors had listened attentively, with Sam asking the most questions. Some of Sam’s questions seemed overly simple – how to address the King, court etiquette, basic things that Merlin thought everyone would know. On the other hand, Merlin conceded that he might have asked the same questions had he been transported to their world. Their language was certainly odd, with words and phrases that Merlin didn’t know, and accents that belonged to no land that Merlin had ever visited.

“Most importantly,” Merlin stressed. “You cannot tell anyone that I summoned you here – or that you are not of this world. It could be seen as magic, and therefore punishable by death.”

Sam and Dean both nodded and then seemed to pause and stare at Merlin in disbelief.

“Are you saying magic is punishable by death in Camelot?” Sam stated.

“Yes, exactly,” Merlin said. “No one can know.”

“But you’re Merlin,” Dean said, staring at Merlin  in disbelief. “You’re- you’re magic. You’re the most...magic.”

“Yes, and it’ll be our little secret, understand? I very much like my head on my shoulders and my skin not burned from my bones.”

“That can’t be right,” Sam said. “This can’t be... does Arthur know?”

“No!” Merlin said. “And he can’t find out.”

“But you’re his wizard!” Dean said.

“I prefer warlock,” Merlin answered, scrunching up his nose at the other term, “and no, I’m not. I’m King Arthur’s manservant.”

“Manservant?!” Dean exclaimed.

“But you’re the most powerful wi- warlock, to ever live!” Sam frowned.

“None of that will matter if I’m dead,” Merlin said. “Which is why you cannot tell Arthur...But how is it that you know so much about me?”

“How is it that you knew how to summon us?” Sam asked back.

“It was in a book,” Merlin answered.

“Well, so are you,” Dean replied.


	2. Chapter 2

As the sun broke over the horizon, Merlin smuggled the two brothers out of the castle so that they could make their entrance properly, and then headed toward Arthur’s chamber to start the day, stopping by the kitchen to pick up the King’s breakfast plate. He nibbled at the plate as he wove through the morning hustle of the corridors.

“Breakfast is-” The King and Queen were already seated at the table, eating. Clarissa, Gwen’s maid, gave Merlin a sheepish look from the window. “Oh.”

“Sorry, Merlin,” Clarissa whispered, as Arthur declared, “Late as usual, Merlin, honestly-”

“I’m not late!” Merlin insisted, “You didn’t let me finish! Ahem, breakfast is...not over yet, Sire – I’ve brought seconds.”

Merlin placed the plate on the table with a flourish, smiling at Gwen’s giggle.

“You know, I could have sworn the kitchen usually provides more food than that...” Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin. Then he motioned to his mouth and pointed at Merlin, “you’ve got a little egg by your lip there, Merlin.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but I assure you that I’m innocent and, quite frankly, I’m offended,” Merlin said, picking up the silver water jug and refilling their cups. As he walked behind Arthur, he held the jug up and quickly used it as a mirror, wiping his lip clean. He winked at Gwen.

Clarissa giggled, and then quickly excused herself to tend to the Queen’s washing when Arthur looked over at her.

“Honestly, Merlin,” Arthur said. “You are the most incompetent- Where HAVE you been this morning?”

“Oh, you know me, busy busy busy...”

“Sleeping no doubt,” Arthur said. “Well, I hope you’ve had a nice lie in, because we’ve a full day ahead of us-”

“Yes, yes,” Merlin agreed, moving over to strip the bed. “Court, council meeting, the speech to the Weavers Guild-”

A knock on the door cut Merlin off. He left the bedclothes in a pile on the floor and quickly crossed the room to answer it. Leon gave Merlin a small sad smile as he stepped into the room. Merlin’s levity faded.

“Sir Leon,” Arthur greeted.

“Sire, there has been another attack in the lower town,” Leon reported. “A jewel merchant has been found dead.”

 “Was it done by the same manner of beast?” Gwen asked.

“Certainly no man would kill in such a manner,” Leon answered.

“Thank you, Leon,” Arthur said. “Have Gaius see me after he has examined the body.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Leon bowed, “My Lady.” And then he disappeared out the door.

“Merlin, clothes,” Arthur said, even though Merlin was already moving towards the wardrobe. “Guinevere, my love, I’m sorry to cut our breakfast short. It seems I must hold court earlier this morning than I intended.”

“I’ll join you,” Gwen answered somberly. “I’ll have someone fetch Clarissa from the laundry and meet you there shortly.” Gwen still had her hair hanging loose from sleep, and no doubt needed Clarissa to help her pin it back for the day.

Merlin passed clothes to Arthur as he stepped behind the dressing screen. Gwen turned back at the door and caught Merlin’s eye, pointing to the food and giving him a wink. Merlin smiled.

“I don’t understand,” Arthur said. “Every day we hunt these beasts, and there is no trace – and yet every morning another life is taken.”

“I am sure the beast will be killed soon,” Merlin reassured, moving over to the table and munching on the leftovers.

“How, when we don’t even know what manner of beast it is?” Arthur asked.

“I am sure a solution will come,” Merlin replied around a bite of sausage.

“Are you eating?” Arthur asked.

“No, Sire!” Merlin replied, hiding his hands behind his back when Arthur looked around the screen.

“Honestly, Merlin, you’re the worst liar I know,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “At least sit down, or you’ll get the hiccups again.”

“Yes, Sire,” Merlin smiled, sitting in Gwen’s empty seat and drinking Arthur’s water.

*

Gaius had given his report to the King and Queen, and Arthur had made a ruling in a case about a farmer’s minor grievance against his neighbour, when Merlin finally saw Sam and Dean being led into the room by Sir Leon. They looked so different dressed in proper attire. Sam’s towering figure was even more formidable and the chainmail emphasized Dean’s broad chest. Sam had seemed a little self-conscious about his lack of sleeves, but Merlin had to admit that, coupled with the long hair, Percival’s old armour made him look quiet wild. They both gave Merlin only the barest glance before their gaze settled on Arthur.

“My Lord,” Sir Leon greeted Arthur, “these two men claim to have knowledge of the beast.”

Merlin watched Arthur sit up straighter in his seat, assessing the two warriors. Sam and Dean gave no hint that they were anything more than just simple mercenaries – and Merlin breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that the two were obviously very good liars, as they had promised him.

They bowed, as Merlin had instructed them, but remained standing.

“Speak,” Arthur commanded. “Who are you and what knowledge do you have.”

The two warriors shared a look, and then Dean stepped forward. Merlin’s pulse quickened. Of the two brothers, Merlin thought Sam was more adept at speaking politely.

“King Arthur, Queen Guinevere,” Dean said. “My name is Dean and this is my younger brother Sam.” Merlin hadn’t asked before, but now he realized that Dean was the eldest and therefore the head of the family, which naturally meant he should speak first. Merlin considered their personalities in this new light – it made the legend seem almost incongruous.

“Sam and I are mercenaries and hunters. We make our living hunting monsters – such as the monsters that are attacking your kingdom. We have come to offer our services.”

“I have the knights of Camelot, the best trained warriors and hunters in the land – what could the two of you possibly offer in addition to that?” Arthur asked. Merlin tried to catch Dean’s eyes, to communicate that the King’s answer was only bravado and that Arthur would be happy for the help.

“We offer experience and knowledge of the enemy,” Sam spoke from behind Dean. “We have been hunting creatures of its kind since we were children.”

Arthur nodded, considering.

“What do you know of the creature attacking Camelot?” Gwen asked, speaking up for the first time from beside Arthur. “Did you follow them here?”

“We heard reports of deaths in Camelot,” Dean answered. “It sounded like...we were needed.”

“Can you name the beast? Our own research has found nothing that matches the wounds,” Arthur stated, and turned his head ever so slightly towards Merlin.

“We can, My Lord,” Sam answered. “We can also kill it, if you give us the resources to do so.”

“And what resources are those? Gold?”

“Food and lodging,” Dean responded, “for me and my brother until our work is done.”

“You’re not interested in the reward?” Gwen asked with curiosity.

“We don’t need money,” Sam shook his head.

There was a silence as Arthur considered. Merlin knew he was too desperate to refuse them; there had been ten deaths in fewer days.

“Very well,” Arthur said, and then turned to speak to George, who was attending to the nobility in court that morning. “Arrange a room in the Knights’ Hall for our guests. Sir Leon, inform the knights that Dean and Sam will be attending council.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Leon bowed and left the room.

“Before I dismiss you,” Arthur turned his attention back to Dean and Sam, “you must tell me the name of the beast that we are hunting.”

“It’s called a werewolf, your highness,” Dean answered. “They eat the heart of their victims.”

“I see,” Arthur said, “but what about the others?”

“Others?”

“The other victims, the ones that still had their hearts,” Arthur explained.

“I’m sorry...Sire,” Sam said, and Merlin watched his gaze flick towards Merlin briefly. Merlin bit his lip, he couldn’t acknowledge that he knew the warriors. “We didn’t know there were more. May I ask what their injuries were?”

“Their necks were bitten as if by some sort of rabid weasel.”

Merlin watched as the two brothers shared a look with each other.

“Vampires,” Dean said. “Sire, you have two different monsters on your hands.”

“Splendid,” Arthur said dryly. “And do you know how to kill these...vampires...as well?”

“Yes, My Lord,” Sam answered.

“Very well, you’re dismissed,” Arthur said, and then he addressed no one in particular. “Escort Sam and Dean to the Knights’ Hall.”

Merlin stepped forward.

“Follow me, gentlemen,” Merlin said. Sam and Dean both nodded, bowed to the King, and did an odd sort of backwards shuffle before turning and following Merlin.

*

As they walked through the castle, past guards and other servants, Sam took it all in, memorizing the way from the court to the Knights’ Hall, tracking the exits and how many guards were on each.

“How old do you think Arthur is?” Dean asked. “He barely looked out of his teens.”

“Dean,” Sam warned, eyeing Merlin’s back. “Think about it. What do you think the life expectancy is around here?”

“Hey, Gaius is one old dude… I’m just saying... Arthur’s a kid, man-”

“Arthur’s a great king,” Merlin turned and said to them, a note of warning in his voice. Sam made a motion of agreement.

“Yeah, but seriously, Merlin – how old is he? How old are you?” Dean pressed.

“Dean-” Sam started, but Merlin cut him off.

“How old were you when your father died?” Merlin asked in return. “How old was Sam? Arthur has been trained his whole life for this role, just as you were.”

Dean raised his hands defensively. “Okay, point taken. The stories all say he’s a great guy. I just pictured him older, is all.”

Merlin turned back around, leading them to a long corridor filled with doors.

“This is the Knights’ Hall,” Merlin explained. “Your room will be between Sir Leon’s and Sir Gwaine’s.” One of the doors was ajar and Merlin led them into that room. The servant that Arthur had sent out of court was there, directing three other servants in the placement of a second bed. “Hello!” Merlin greeted, “Thank you, George.”

George looked annoyed, but the other servants all smiled brightly at Merlin.

“If that’s all...” George said.

“Yes, thank you,” Merlin said. “I’m going to get our guests settled, so we can switch and you can go look after the Royal Prat until he adjourns court.”

George glared at Merlin and left the room without a word. The other servants laughed and shook their heads.

“Sam, Dean,” Merlin said. “I’d like you to meet Mary, Peter, and Callum. They’re assigned to the Knights’ Hall. If you need anything, you can ask them.” The servants all bowed or curtsied.

“Uh, hi,” Sam said.

“Thanks...in advance, I guess,” Dean said beside him.

“Our pleasure,” Mary smiled at Dean...and Dean smiled back. Sam rolled his eyes. It never did take Dean long.

“Thank you for setting up the second bed,” Merlin said. “Just leave the bedclothes; I’ll take over from here. You can get back to your schedule.” The servants all smiled at Merlin gratefully and then left the room.

Merlin walked over and shut the door behind them, and then leaned up against it, smiling uncertainly.

“Anything else you forgot to tell us?” Dean was clearly annoyed. “Anyone seeing dead people? Clouds of black smoke? Invisible dogs?”

“Uh, no,” Merlin said. “There are just...uh, just the people with missing hearts and the ones with bites to the neck.”

“Okay, so, werewolves and vampires,” Sam said. “No problem. We’ll just have to figure out who they are.”

“When’s your next full moon?” Dean asked.

Merlin counted on his fingers. “In two days?”

“Okay, that doesn’t give us that much time on the werewolf, and of course, if we focus on that more, that gives the vamp time to expand the family...” Dean looked to Sam.

“Divide and conquer?”

“Let’s get the lay of the land first.” They turned back to Merlin who was looking at them warily.

“Anyone come to Gaius with just bite wounds lately? Not dead, but just with a strange bite?” Dean asked.

“Not that I know of, but I can ask-”

“Okay, you’ll have to take us to the victims’ houses,” Sam said.

“I can’t.”

“Well, get someone who can,” Dean responded. “The longer we wait on this, the more casualties we risk.”

“No, I meant that you have to meet with the King and other knights at council first,” Merlin explained. “Arthur’s expecting you to work with the knights.”

“No, we work alone,” Dean said. “I cannot be responsible for a bunch of newbies who don’t know what they’re dealing with.”

“They’re the best knights in the land! They’re hardly incapable of looking after themselves.” Merlin said, and then Sam watched as Merlin’s eyes grew wide. “You don’t... you don’t use magic to kill the monsters, do you?”

“No,” Sam replied. Merlin let out a breath in relief. “Listen,” Sam said calmly, in order to mitigate Dean’s anger.. “We’ll talk to Arthur – Dean and I have been hunting these things our whole lives. I’m sure we can convince him to just let us do our thing, so no one else is put in danger.”

Merlin looked doubtful, but Dean seemed appeased. Sam started planning, wondering if they would have free roaming rights or whether they’d be escorted the whole time they were in Camelot. Maybe it was a matter of sneaking off when no one was looking and just getting the job done. On the other hand, being accompanied by knights would probably make people more willing to answer questions.

Sam watched as Merlin put the sheets on the second bed with practiced ease. Sam had to remind himself that this was the legendary Merlin – or at least a version of him – making a bed.

“So,” Dean said. “The knights of Camelot...”

“Yes?” Merlin asked.

“I think I only know Lancelot,” Dean said, looking over to Sam, silently asking if he knew any others. Sam shrugged. It wasn’t like he’d been expecting to be summoned to Camelot – otherwise he would have done some research. Merlin, however, stilled completely.

“You know...” Merlin said, looking at them with wide eyes. “You know Lancelot?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, smiling. “Brave Sir Lancelot. Is he around? Do we get to meet him?”

“He’s... he’s dead,” Merlin said, looking down at the half-made bed. “It’s probably best if you don’t talk about him in front of the others.”

“Sorry,” Sam offered, because by the expression on Merlin’s face, he had obviously liked the guy.

“Yeah, man, sorry to hear that,” Dean said. “How’d he die?”

Merlin swallowed, and Sam wanted to kick his brother for staying on the topic.

“He sacrificed himself to save the kingdom.” Merlin focused on the task of making the bed as he spoke quietly. “But that’s not... he came back, but it wasn’t him. Lancelot was the only person other than Gaius who knew about my magic, but when he came back, he didn’t – and well... It was actually something called a Shade. And he... did something against Lancelot’s character, and now people remember it as though it were Lancelot, and I can’t tell them that it wasn’t him without exposing myself.”

“The Queen?” Sam had to ask.

Merlin’s head snapped up. “How do you possibly know-”

“We told you... where we come from, you’re a story,” Sam explained. “King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table – Lancelot and Guinevere, and how they... well, depending who’s telling the story, it either destroys the King, or nearly does.”

“What else do the stories say?” Merlin asked.

“They say you’re an old guy,” Dean said. “Long beard...proper wizard, you know?”

“And do the stories speak of Albion? Does Arthur achieve his dream?” Merlin asked,

“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Dean said. “I mean, he’s a legend, right? Had to have done something good to become a legend.”

Merlin smiled, and Sam thought there was happiness about him as though just by Dean’s word all of Merlin’s dreams were promised to come true. Yet there was tiredness about the goofy looking kid that made Merlin look like he was already an old man who had lived an exhausting life.

“What else is there?” Dean asked, turning to Sam. “I know there’s something about Arthur’s death – some woman takes him somewhere or something.”

“What?” The happiness on Merlin’s face vanished.

“Dean,” Sam said. “I don’t think... Merlin, I’m sorry, but I don’t think we should be telling you this sort of stuff. You…Camelot…are just stories in our world, and they might not have anything to do with what happens here. Look, they’re already not accurate, because you aren’t an old man – so, don’t worry about it, okay? I’m sure Arthur will be fine. I mean, he’s got you watching his back, doesn’t he?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Merlin said. “But I am an old man sometimes. Whenever I need to perform magic openly, I use an aging spell so that Arthur won’t recognize me, and then I escape before he can execute me and I change back.”

“How is it that magic is banned anyway?” Sam asked, hoping to keep Merlin from asking more questions that Sam and Dean weren’t equipped to answer. Dean was busy frowning in Merlin’s direction and Sam where his brother’s thoughts had gone.

“Uther, Arthur’s father, banned it after the death of Arthur’s mother,” Merlin explained, returning to the task of making the bed. “They were unable to have children and so he made a deal with a sorceress in order to have a son. Only, magic cannot give life without taking life – a balance must be kept. This was not explained to Uther, and when Arthur’s mother died shortly after giving birth, Uther blamed magic and he... well, he killed every sorcerer and magic user in the land.”

“Seriously?” Dean asked. “But it was his own fault! What kind of an epic douche-”

“But Uther’s gone now, and Arthur’s kept the law?” Sam interrupted.

“Well, yes, all Arthur’s been told was that magic is responsible for his mother’s death – and the only magic he’s ever seen has been used to attack him or his kingdom,” Merlin explained. “But Arthur is not his father, and one day, I know that he will change the law and accept magic. I just have to... make sure he lives to see that day.”

“Why don’t you just tell him it’s his dad’s fault?” Dean asked.

“Because I’ve already told him the truth is a lie.” Merlin cringed. Sam and Dean gave him equal stares of disbelief. “I had to,” Merlin gestured for understanding, “When he heard the real story, Arthur flew into a rage and was going to kill his father. If he’d gone through with it, he would have never been able to live with himself afterward.”

“Seriously?” Dean asked again. “His father sounds like an asshole. Arthur would have been doing everyone a favour.”

“And would you have killed your mother?” Merlin asked.

“What?” Sam asked, as Dean froze beside him.

“Well, she traded her son’s destiny for the life of her lover,” Merlin explained. “If she had lived, would you have killed her for her treachery?”

Dumfounded, Sam watched as Dean rushed forward and grasped Merlin by his jacket, pushing him against the wall.

“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about,” Dean growled in Merlin’s face.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, as Merlin’s eyes widened in fright.

“I apologize, My Lord,” Merlin winced. “I... I’ve obviously got it wrong.”

“Let him go,” a voice suddenly commanded from the door. Sam turned, instinctively reaching for his gun and touching the hilt of his borrowed sword instead. The knight at the door continued with a slight gesture of his sword. “You, don’t move or there will be trouble. And you, step away from Merlin.”

Dean let go of Merlin as though he had intended to anyway. He held up his hands.

“Merlin,” the knight said, “are we reporting this to the King?”

“Not unless you want me to end up in the stocks, Gwaine,” Merlin answered. “I’m afraid that I truly was in the wrong. I insulted the man’s mother.”

Gwaine raised his eyebrows, still not lowering his sword. “And why did you insult the man’s mother?” he asked.

“Believe me, it wasn’t my intent. It was a simply a misunderstanding.” Merlin turned to Dean, and bowed his head. “I beg your forgiveness, Sir, yours and your brother’s. I meant no offense. I’m sure your mother was a fine woman who loved you and was loved dearly in return.”

“Apology accepted,” Sam said. Dean was silent. “Dean...”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “And, uh, sorry about...” Dean waved in the direction of Merlin’s chest and the wall.

“Good, I’d hate to start off on the wrong foot, as I hear we’re to be working together.” Gwaine smiled and sheathed his sword. “I’ve come to collect you for council. We’ll be a bit late now, but that’s okay, we can just blame Merlin.”

With this, Gwaine sauntered over to Merlin and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in tight and ruffling his hair with his other hand.

“Hey!” Merlin exclaimed, squirming away – but the giggling undercut his indignation.


	3. Chapter 3

“So, are you two nobility?” Gwaine asked as they made their way through various corridors, walking two abreast with Merlin and Sam in the lead.

“Nah,” Dean said. “Just... uh, mercenaries.”

“Where are you from? You speak in a manner I’ve never heard before – and I’ve traveled all the lands of Albion.”

“Oh, we travelled all over growing up.”

“Yes, but-”

“How about you?” Dean interrupted. “Were you born in Camelot?”

“No, somewhere else.”

“So, how’d you end up in Camelot?”

“Met Merlin in a tavern brawl,” Gwaine smiled broadly, punching Merlin affectionately in the back of the shoulder and interrupting the conversation that Merlin and Sam were having about the way Arthur ran meetings. “I accidentally saved Arthur’s royal arse – and then one thing lead to another and suddenly I’m swearing allegiance to Arthur and Camelot and storming a castle. The things I do for Merlin, I tell you – before I met him, I had sworn that I would never serve a king until the day I died.”

“Shut up,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “You love being a knight and you did it because of Arthur, not me.”

“Of course,” Gwaine winked.

The massive doors at the bottom of a staircase were opened by the guards as they approached. Dean tried to keep his jaw from dropping as they walked into the room to find Arthur and the knights of Camelot seated around a gigantic round table. Dean caught Sam’s eye and could tell he was geeking out just as much as Dean.

“About time,” Arthur said. “Please, have a seat so we can begin.” There were three empty chairs at the table, and Dean could hardly contain his smile as he realized that he and Sam were going to be _sitting_ at the _round table_ with _King Arthur._

“I apologize, Sire,” Gwaine said. “Our delay was completely Merlin’s fault, of course.”

“Of course,” Arthur sighed and leveled a flat look at Merlin. It took Dean a moment to realize why Merlin walked to stand behind Arthur instead of claiming a seat.  Dean reminded himself that this Merlin was a servant, not the King’s respected advisor and apparently servants didn’t get chairs.

“Knights, these are the mercenaries who have volunteered their services, brothers Dean and Sam.” Arthur gestured to each of them as they were introduced. “They claim they have hunted creatures such as the ones plaguing Camelot. They will be staying in the Knights Hall until such time as the monsters are slain. I expect you to welcome them in a fashion befitting the knights of Camelot. Dean, Sam, please tell us everything you know about the creatures that are plaguing my kingdom.”

“Right, well-” Dean started.

“Stand up,” Sam hissed at him, as he elbowed Dean in the side. Dean glared at him, but stood. As he did, the King sat.

“Right...” Dean started again. “There are two different types of creatures that are killing your citizens. One is a werewolf. Werewolves take the form of a human by day, but in the nights closest to the full moon, it changes into a wolf-like monster that eats the hearts of those it kills. The second creature is a vampire. Vampires also look human, but they have a second set of teeth that descend from their gums. They feed by draining the blood from their victim, usually by biting the neck. They don’t like the sun, so they’re also mostly active at night.”

“I’ve never heard of such creatures,” Arthur stated.

“They aren’t-” Sam started, paused to stand, and then continued. “They aren’t natural to this world, My Lord.”

“Then how did they come here?” Arthur asked.

“Uh,” Dean said, doing his best to keep from looking at Merlin. “They were summoned here by magic.”

“Morgana?” Arthur asked, and Dean saw all the knights tense.

“Wh-” Dean started to ask, but Sam elbowed him again and glared at him with an expression that clearly said, ‘look at Merlin, dipshit.’ Merlin was staring at Dean with wide eyes and he very slowly shook his head.

“Uh, no, your Majesty,” Dean said, sticking to the story that Merlin had given them. “It was another sorcerer. We killed him, but unfortunately we found him after the monsters had already been summoned.”

“Morgana may still be involved,” Arthur declared, and addressed an older knight across the table. “Sir Glyn, I want to know if anyone has heard of Morgana’s whereabouts recently. Take a patrol to the outlying villages, and inquire discreetly – do not wear the colours of Camelot. Report to Sir Leon when you return.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Sir Glyn replied.

“Now, Dean, Sam, how do we find and slay these beasts?” Arthur asked.

“Sam and I need to question the people in the area where the murders occurred,” Dean said. “The original creatures should be relatively easy to find, as they would be new in town. It would help if we could have a map showing where the victims were found. It will be trickier if they’ve already started multiplying – but Sam and I have dealt with that situation as well. Once we find them-”

“What do you mean by multiplying? Surely they cannot breed so quickly,” Arthur interrupted.

“Uh, that isn’t how-” Sam started, and Dean bit his lip to keep from laughing at Sam’s blush.

“They multiply by turning people into monsters,” Dean explained. “Anyone who is bitten by a werewolf becomes a werewolf. With vampires – if you swallow vampire blood, you become a vampire.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Arthur asked, repulsed.

“I’ve never known anyone who’s done it willingly,” Dean said. “Vampires are unnaturally strong and quite forceful. If a vamp decides to turn you, there’s not much you can do to fight them off.”

“I see,” Arthur said.

“So, the sooner we get out there and find them the better,” Dean finished.

“Oh, and we’ll need silver,” Sam added.

Arthur’s brow furrowed.

“I thought you said that you only required room and board,” Arthur said in a cold tone. “Have you had a change of heart?”

“No!” Sam backpedaled. “Not, uh, not silver...uh, for...um, buying things...”

“We need silver weapons,” Dean said. “Swords are fine for vampires. With a vamp, you just have to chop of their head, but a werewolf can only be killed if you shoot- uh, if you pierce it in the heart with silver. We usually use, um...crossbows with silver tipped bolts. But, we don’t, uh, we don’t have any...right now.”

“Right,” Arthur challenged. “You say you have hunted these creatures before; you say you came to Camelot specifically to help us; yet you do not have the necessary weapons?”

“Uh, we, um...” Dean stuttered, and looked Sam who shrugged. “This is awkward... um, see, it’s kind of embarrassing...”

“Let me guess,” Merlin suddenly spoke up, “Bandits? In the forest of Ascetir?”

“How’d you know?” Sam asked, playing along brilliantly.

“You mentioned you had come through there when I showed you your rooms. And no one likes to admit they were defeated by bandits.”

“Hey, we weren’t defeated!” Dean replied. “You shut your mouth.”

“Gentlemen, please,” Arthur said. “Merlin, don’t speak unless spoken to.”

“Sorry, My Lord,” Merlin said, not looking sorry at all, as he hid a grin.

“They stole our supplies while we slept, My Lord,” Sam improvised. “We had planned to track them down and reclaim our belongings, but word came of monsters in Camelot, and we felt we should come here immediately. We only hoped you’d be able to provide the necessary weapons. We’ll return them once we’ve killed the monsters and your citizens are safe. You have our word.”

“Very well,” Arthur said. “Sir Percival, request the silversmith fashion us bolts with silver tips.” He cast a questioning look at Sam. “Silver daggers would kill the creatures as well?”

“You’d have to get dangerously close to stab them in the heart, but yes.”

 “Very well, from now on, all knights who possess a silver dagger are to bear them at all times.”

“Yes, Sire,” came from several directions while many of the other knights nodded. “And Sir Leon, please provide Sam and Dean with the locations of where the bodies were found.”

“Great,” Dean said. “So, if that’s everything – Sam and I will start asking around and see if we can find some monsters to shoot at.”

“You are dismissed only when I say you are dismissed,” Arthur intoned. “I’m the King.”

“Right,” Dean said. “Right, of course, sorry... we don’t usually...uh, we’re not exactly used to... Kings.”

“Good lord, you’re like Gwaine and Merlin combined,” Arthur muttered. Then he paused and continued in a firmer voice. “I will not allow you to interrogate my citizens unsupervised. I don’t know you – we’ve had charlatan witchfinders before, and I won’t have it happen again.”

“With all due respect, Sire,” Dean ground out. “Sam and I are used to working on our own. If we march into town with a whole bunch of dudes in red capes, the monsters are going to go to ground and it’ll make it a hell of a lot harder to hunt them.”

“With all due respect, Dean,” Arthur glared back, “I’m not an idiot. Sir Gwaine and Merlin will accompany you, and they won’t be wearing red capes while doing so. And I don’t know what a ‘dude’ is, but if you are insulting my knights, I’d like to remind you that you are currently at the mercy of my court, not I at yours.”

“We apologize, Sire,” Sam spoke quickly. “We meant no disrespect. We’re happy to have Merlin and Sir Gwaine help us.”

“Dude isn’t an insult,” Dean added.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam hissed at him, “before you put your goddamn foot in it again.”

“But it’s not an insult,” Dean muttered, glancing around the table. “I really respect you dudes... I mean, men - I respect you men.”

Both Sam and Merlin were rubbing their foreheads, but Gwaine was openly beaming at Dean. So Dean figured that they were good.

*

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief as the meeting moved on to other matters. It was decided that Arthur would meet again with the brothers and the knights after supper, to review the results of their inquiries, and decide whether to hunt the creatures that night or whether they would need to do more research.

This meant that Merlin was going to be spending the afternoon in the lower town with Sam, Dean, and Gwaine. Merlin had already written Arthur’s speech for the afternoon meeting with the Weavers Guild, and Arthur didn’t necessarily need Merlin there. Merlin had planned to use that time to do the King’s washing and polish his armour, but now that would have to wait.

If they did go hunting that evening, then Arthur would insist that he throw himself into danger as well – which meant that Merlin would have to accompany the men in order to insure Arthur’s safety. Surely, a monster that could transfer a curse with a single bite was too dangerous for Arthur to face alone. Merlin couldn’t help but think of the Questing Beast and how close Arthur had come to death.

After the meeting concluded, Arthur gave a nod to Gwaine and Merlin that they should linger in the room as Elyan offered to show Sam and Dean the mess hall where they could get lunch before beginning their inquiries in town.

“Your speech for the Weavers Guild is on your desk, My Lord,” Merlin said. “It’s short, and should be easy to memorize over lunch. I can ask George to attend you if you like, but the meeting shouldn’t be arduous – they’re mainly just concerned about the trade routes from Mercia and how they might affect the market price here in Camelot. You need only assure them that-”

“Yes, Merlin, thank you, I’m sure it’s all in the speech as usual,” Arthur interrupted. “No need to inflict George on me. I can handle one meeting alone.”

“Right, of course, Sire,” Merlin replied.

“More important than the Weavers Guild are these two mercenaries,” Arthur continued. “I want you and Gwaine to keep a watchful eye on them. Be sure they are who they say they are. I will not have another witchfinder torturing and killing my people on false accusations – nor will I stand for another of Morgana’s spies inside these walls.”

“Yes, Sire,” Gwaine replied nodded.

“Yes, My Lord,” Merlin agreed. “But I’ve already spent some time with them, and I assure you that I’ve no reason to doubt them – they really are only here to help, and I think they’ve already proven themselves to be very knowledgeable.”

“Be that as it may, they still have to earn my trust,” Arthur said. “And as I cannot accompany them to the lower town myself, I’m trusting you two to be my eyes and ears. Understood?”

“Of course,” Merlin nodded.

“Good, you’re dismissed,” Arthur waved toward the door.

Gwaine left, but Merlin didn’t move.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m supposed to serve you lunch, Arthur.”

“Oh,” Arthur said. “No, you should join Gwaine and our guests. Clarissa can attend me at lunch, she did fine this morning when you were late.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Just be sure you dress in your blue woven shirt before seeing the Weavers.”

“The blue shirt?” Arthur whined. “But I hate that shirt! Why do I have to wear that woven monstrosity?”

“Because it’s the _Weavers_ Guild, and they made it especially for you last year, Arthur,” Merlin glared. “We don’t want the weavers to think you ungrateful, do we?”

“No,” Arthur pouted.

*

“You know,” Elyan said, as they collected their plates of food from a stern looking woman. “You two remind me a bit of those brothers from the stories.”

“Stories?” Sam asked, in forced innocent tone.

“Yes, you must know – the two brothers who fight evil spirits and whose devotion to each other overcomes all adversity – it’s a classic!”

Dean started coughing. “Sorry, uh, must have swallowed wrong.”

“I guess probably lots of people tell you that,” Elyan shrugged, as they found an empty table in the mess hall.

“Uh, sometimes,” Sam responded. On the one hand, he really wanted to know what these stories were, but if anyone became suspicious of his and Dean’s true origins, it was Merlin’s head on the line. He changed the subject, just to be safe. “So, you like being a knight of Camelot?”

“Of course,” Elyan said. “Keeps me out of trouble, that’s what Gwen says anyway.”

“The Queen?” Dean asked. “She a friend of yours?”

“She’s my sister,” Elyan smiled. “Always knew I’d never measure up, but hey, Arthur isn’t really my type anyway,” Elyan added with a laugh.

“Fair enough,” Sam smiled.

Gwaine arrived at their table then, plunking his bowl of stew down with a clatter.

“We’re to head out after lunch,” Gwaine announced. “We just have to wait for Merlin to finish attending his Royal Highness.”

Sam nodded, noticing the sarcastic tone Gwaine used when saying Arthur’s title.

“Or not,” Elyan said, nodding towards the door. The three of them looked and saw Merlin greet a few knights as he walked into the room.

“Now that’s a rare sight indeed,” Gwaine said.

They watched as Merlin picked up a bread roll and then walked over to where the cook was dishing out the stew.

“Oi! Get away you! This food’s for the knights!” the cook shouted, whacking Merlin’s hand with the ladle, making the empty bowl he was holding clatter to the table. Merlin scowled, but most of the surrounding knights just laughed.

“But Arthur said-”

“You watch your mouth, boy, and put that bread back!” The cook yelled, raising the spoon again. Merlin darted out of the way.

“I don’t want your disgusting stew anyway,” Merlin called back. Gwaine huffed a laugh and shook his head.

“Merlin!” Gwaine called him over, “has Princess seen fit to release you from your duty?”

Merlin smiled and sat on the bench next to Gwaine.

“For now,” Merlin said. “Though I’ll have to do something nice for Clarissa to make up for it – she’s Gwen’s maid, not Arthur’s, and she covered for me when I was late with breakfast this morning too. It’s hardly fair to her, but he wanted to make sure we weren’t delayed in our trip to the lower town. So, once you lot are done eating, we can go.”

Merlin took a bite of his bread roll, glancing back at the cook with a dirty look.

“Cook’s not too fond of you, it seems,” Dean said.

“She’s a troll,” Merlin muttered.

“Well, I’ll agree to that,” Gwaine said, letting his spoon drop into his stew. “I don’t think I can even finish this muck.”

Sam frowned – maybe he was just really hungry, but he didn’t think the stew was that bad – bland and a little salty maybe, but hardly inedible. Dean had already finished his.

“Particularly bad today, is it?” Merlin asked.

“Don’t believe me?” Gwaine pushed his bowl over to Merlin. “Have a taste.”

Merlin picked up a spoonful and ate it. “Ugh, yeah, this is horrid.”

“Told you,” Gwaine said. “Well, fellows, I’ll meet you by the gates. I’ve got to change out of this cape so I’m less noticeable.” He winked at Dean.

As soon as Gwaine left, Elyan started in on a funny story about Gwaine not being able to pay his bill at a tavern one evening, and Sam found himself laughing for the rest of the meal. When they rose from the table, he noticed Merlin had not left a trace of stew in Gwaine’s bowl.


	4. Chapter 4

Sir Leon presented them with a rough map of Camelot and where the victims had been found as they were about to leave with Merlin and Gwaine.

“Huh, I hadn’t noticed the pattern,” Merlin remarked as they spread the draft on the table.

“The werewolf victims are all near the town center,” Dean waved at the parchment. “But the vamp kills are mostly on the outskirts – means we’re going to have to cover a lot of ground talking to people this afternoon.”

Interviewing the townsfolk of Camelot was a different experience than even in a small town back home. People lived squished against each other in ramshackle row houses, and they knew all the details of their neighbours’ lives. There was no TV, no commute to work, no large front lawns that separated windows from the street. Sam had to admit that without Merlin and Gwaine, he and Dean may have been viewed with suspicion and learned little.  Merlin and Gwaine, however, seemed to be able to charm their way into any house and anyone’s good graces.

Merlin would explain in soft tones that the King was concerned about those in the lower town, and wanted very much to come himself to talk to the people, but his busy schedule would not allow it, so Merlin was there to check on things and report back. After that explanation, the four of them would be sitting down to their nine hundredth cup of water or weak wine and asking careful questions as the resident gushed about Arthur being such a kind and thoughtful king.

Sam had to wonder how much of what Merlin said was true. It was impossible to tell where the real Arthur ended and the myth of Arthur began. He was clearly beloved by his citizens, but Sam wondered if Arthur would really have preferred to come to the lower town himself. For one thing, there was the smell. Sam made a face every once in a while despite his best intentions. Dean caught Sam looking disgusted, but Dean just laughed and said something about authenticity. Sam would much prefer indoor plumbing and better hygiene standards to authenticity.

They ended up listening to a wealth of useless information over the course of the afternoon: the broom-maker had been drinking more, his daughter Helena had taken up with the wrong crowd, Thomas from the orchard fancied Clarissa who had just gotten a job in the castle. But, no, they hadn’t seen anyone out late at night who didn’t belong.

One thing Sam did notice was that if anyone thought their questions implied that they were looking for something magical, there was a terrified refusal to answer. Merlin was usually the one to swoop in and reassure the person that they were in no danger, from magic or from the knights. One thing was for certain, people were convinced that being associated with magic in any way was a death sentence.

Finally, though, they were able to find a few leads.

“Sounds like we should visit the baker’s daughter,” Dean announced, as they left the seamstress’ house. Apparently, Lillian, the baker’s daughter, had been attacked by a man three nights ago, but he had run off when she screamed and had drawn the attention of the night guards. “And I’m willing to bet that our vamp is stalking the tavern. We just have to figure out where his nest is.”

“But if the baker’s daughter was turned,” Sam replied. “It means we’ve now got at least two wolves on our hands, and possibly more, depending if she’s been biting too and not just killing. We gotta act soon, Dean. The death toll is only going to get worse.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean sighed. “Okay, so, unknown wolves are better to hunt at night. Vamps in the day. How about you and Merlin go talk to the baker’s daughter, find out where our wolf attacked her. Gwaine and I will head to the tavern, ask around and see if anyone noticed anything.”

Sam watched as Gwaine and Merlin exchanged a look that ended with Merlin giving Gwaine a nod.

“We good?” Sam asked.

“Yes, let’s go,” Merlin said. “I have to be back at the castle soon.”

“People are really afraid of magic here,” Sam said as they walked.

“Keep your voice down,” Merlin replied.

“Sorry, it’s just... I mean, I get it, it can be pretty evil in the wrong hands, but even white mag-” Merlin shot Sam a hard look, “uh...I mean, even the good kind... it’s like they think they’ll be hung just for saying hello to someone who uses...it.”

“They would have been when Uther ruled,” Merlin sighed. “Anyone who housed or fed a known sorcerer was deemed complicit in their crimes.”

“But what if they didn’t have any crimes?” Sam asked. “What if they were just using it to...I don’t know... kill monsters... or heal bunnies...”

Merlin laughed, “Heal bunnies?”

“You know what I mean,” Sam said, embarrassed. “Look, I just... I mean, Dean and I, we kill witches all the time.” Sam winced as Merlin stopped walking completely, staring at Sam with wide eyes. Sam hastened to continue, “But we only kill witches who are killing people, and we use...” Sam lowered his voice, “...spells sometimes to find demons or kill things that can only be killed that way... I’m just saying that it’s not all bad. Isn’t there a distinction made?”

Merlin expression had turned sympathetic as Sam spoke.

“Arthur hasn’t seen a lot of the good kind,” Merlin said. “It was particularly bad when Uther ruled. There was a lot of anger for Uther’s crimes – for the purge, for all the death. The only magic Arthur saw was the kind that came to court to kill him or his father in revenge. It’s how I became his manservant, actually. I saved him from one such attack.”

“But weren’t they just proving his point then? If the only magic users Arthur saw were out to kill him, of course that would only reinforce the idea that all magic is evil,” Sam mused, “He can’t make a fair assessment if that’s the only side of it he’s seen.”

“Exactly,” Merlin replied, “As long as it magic is outlawed, Arthur will never see the good it can do because those who use magic for good are wise enough to keep themselves hidden.”

“And if he can never see the good, he’s not likely to make it legal. You’ve got yourself a real catch-22.”

“A what?” Merlin asked.

“Uh, what I mean is – you’ve got to tell Arthur-”

“No,” Merlin said. “I can’t protect him if he kills me.”

“But if he knew-”

“No,” Merlin interrupted again. “No, I have to be sure. There’s too much at stake and I just can’t... listen, it’s not just about my life. It’s about Albion and the world that Arthur is destined to create. It’s too great to gamble with, Sam.” Then Merlin stopped walking. “We’re here.”

Sam frowned at Merlin and then realized that they were standing in front of a house that smelled of fresh-baked bread.

They spoke with the baker, and then with his daughter, Lillian, who was resting upstairs, after apparently having sleepless nights. She claimed a man came up behind her as she walked home from the well one night. She believed he must have been attempting to kiss the back of her neck, but had bitten her when she resisted and screamed. He’d run off as soon as the nearby guard arrived.

Sam asked to see the bite, which was still red around the edges, but surprisingly well healed. He asked her how she had been sleeping. She claimed that she had been sleeping just fine, even though her father had just told them otherwise.

“Your father claims he woke up to find you doing the washing at dawn,” Sam said, and he had to admit that Lillian did a good job of quelling the look of panic.

“I...I was up early and realized that I had stained my night dress. I wanted to wash it before the stain set,” Lillian said, looking at the wall.

“Stained with what?” Sam asked.

“That’s a woman’s business, Sir,” Lillian said, looking mortified. Sam glanced at Merlin to find him looking equally as mortified.

“Right, sorry,” Sam said. “Thanks for your help.”

*

It was one of the few times that Dean didn’t have to bribe a bartender in order to get information. Gwaine and the barkeep were on very good terms. In a matter of minutes, without even recognizing that he was being questioned, the man was telling Gwaine all about the newcomers that he had seen in his tavern in the last two weeks.

“Nigh on a fortnight ago,” the barkeep said, “this lass comes in all on her own. Bold as brass she was, and in fine clothes too. She had the men charmed in no time, buying her ale, and could she drink. She’d give _you_ a challenge.”

“Now, I’m sorry I missed that,” Gwaine laughed along with the bartender. “Has she been back since?”

“Aye, came in the very next day with a young man on her arm. Shy lad – old Bran’s boy. Did you know Bran? Decent man, he was, rest his soul. Owned the land by the Darkling Wood,” the bartender explained. “Poor boy though, didn’t look like a tavern was where he wanted to be. Too noisy for him, I think. He flinched at every noise as though it were driving a spike into him. I figure he was only here because she wanted to come, and with a girl like that, it’s her way or no way. She’s come in since, now and again.”

“Alone?” Dean asked, and then to temper any suspicion, he smiled and said, “Or could the boy actually keep a girl like that?”

The barkeep shook his head. “Don’t think she’s the type of girl who wants to be kept, if you get my meaning.”

“I don’t think I do,” Dean said, confused.

The barkeep shifted uncomfortably and shared a look with Gwaine, who seemed to understand.

“She comes in alone, but never leaves alone?” Gwaine guessed. The barkeep nodded.

“Ah,” Dean said.

“And the boy never came in looking for her?” Gwaine asked.

The barkeep shook his head, “Probably back home, licking his wounds.”

Dean doubted it. She was playing the classic vamp con. She’d lure the inebriated men out of the bar to someplace secluded, and her newly turned mate would swoop in for an easy meal. Dean suspected that another look at Leon’s map would put the tavern smack in the vicinity of the vamp deaths.

Gwaine and the barkeep chatted a bit more, trading lewd jokes that had Dean laughing, before the barkeep had to go attend other costumers.

“While I’ve got you here, I thought we might have a little chat,” Gwaine said, turning to Dean and giving him a smile.

“About?” Dean asked, eyeing Gwaine – who had, Dean was sure, been leering at women all day,  not men, but it wouldn’t be the first time...

“Merlin,” Gwaine answered, his smile dropping. “I may have sworn allegiance to Arthur and Camelot, but long before that, I swore allegiance to Merlin, whether or not he realizes it. Now, I know misunderstandings happen, but never doubt that I will run you through if you ever harm a hair on Merlin’s head.”

“Understood,” Dean nodded.

Gwaine smiled.

“It’s good...” Dean added, “Merlin’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

Gwaine shook his head, as though he wanted to argue, but instead he just took a drink of ale.

“No, it is,” Dean repeated. “I’m just wondering though...You say your allegiance is to Merlin, but you’ve officially sworn allegiance to Arthur. So, what happens if Arthur’s the one that hurts Merlin?”

Gwaine looked at Dean like he was crazy. “Arthur would never hurt Merlin,” he said. “I mean, yes, Arthur’s given him a cuff now and then, but that’s just...them.”

“But what if...” Dean persisted. “What if Arthur ordered Merlin to be executed, which one of your loyalties would you choose?”

Gwaine frowned. “He’d never...”

“Hypothetically – humour me.”

“I...” Gwaine stopped, and genuinely looked distressed at the prospect. “It would be Merlin,” he said, nearly in a whisper. “I don’t think I could live with myself otherwise.”

“Good,” Dean said. “Good answer.”

“I won’t ever have to choose,” Gwaine stated firmly.

“Let’s hope,” Dean nodded.

Gwaine frowned, “You make it sound like you know something that I don’t.”

Dean shook his head, “I barely know the King, and I only met Merlin this morning.”

“Then why ask these questions?” Gwaine asked with some anger.

“This afternoon I just got to thinking that Merlin might need someone to have his back. Call it a hunch.” Dean shrugged, and then drank the rest of his ale. “Now, I have no idea what time it is, but I’m starving – let’s say we head back and see what Sammy and Merlin have found.”

Gwaine nodded and threw back the rest of his own drink, slapping coins down on the bar. He looked at Dean expectedly – and Dean realized that he was expected to pay for his own ale...with money he did not have. Not only that, but their impending departure had caught the bartender’s attention, and he was walking over.

Dean gave the barkeep in his most charming smile. “Send the bill to the King,” he said firmly.

The barkeep raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “It’s your head.”

Gwaine laughed and slung an arm around Dean’s shoulders.

“I’m not quite sure what to make of you, my friend,” Gwaine announced, “but I do like your style.”

*

Once they had left the baker’s house, Sam sighed audibly. Merlin knew what he was thinking, and he knew Sam was right, but part of him still refused to accept it.

“Maybe it was just... you know...” Merlin said softly.

“No,” Sam said. “Girl gets bitten, wakes up two days later with blood all over her...it wasn’t her blood, and she knows it.”

“Is it always like this?” Merlin asked, leading them back through town toward the castle.

“Is what always like this?”

“Your lives,” Merlin said with a wave of his hands. “I mean, when I imagined it, the monsters and evil spirits were...”

“Not teenage girls who don’t even know they were a monster?” Sam asked.

“Exactly,” Merlin replied, and suddenly he couldn’t help but think of dark hair, candlelight, and smuggling food down to the forgotten storerooms in the castle.

“It’s not always like this,” Sam said. “But for the most part – yeah, it is. How about you? You honestly never come across something like this in all your adventures with Arthur?”

“There was a girl once,” Merlin said. “Like Lillian, only... only she knew. She was cursed. At night, she would turn into a bastet.”

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

“A big black panther with wings,” Merlin smiled. “She was beautiful even then. Only, she killed people. Arthur...we were going to run away together, live by a lake...”

“You and Arthur?”

“No,” Merlin huffed a laugh, “Me and Freya.”

“Oh,” Sam said. “And Arthur killed her?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied softly.

“There was a werewolf once,” Sam said. “Her name was Madison. I thought I had a way to cure her, and for a moment we even thought it had worked…but it hadn’t. There is no cure.”

“Did Dean kill her?” Merlin asked, wondering just how much he and Sam had in common.

“No, I did,” Sam replied. Merlin swallowed, trying to imagine taking Freya’s life himself – he couldn’t. But he couldn’t help but think of Morgana’s wide eyes as she realized that Merlin had poisoned her – that Merlin had betrayed her.  Merlin shook the image out of his head. It had been the only way, he knew that.

“You can wait for Gwaine and Dean in the Knights’ Hall,” Merlin said, as they walked through the castle gate into the inner courtyard. “I have to attend Arthur. Can you find your way on your own?”

“I think so,” Sam said, and then he smiled, “Thanks for the help, Merlin.”

Merlin nodded, not used to being thanked, and definitely not used to being thanked by a warrior who was supposed to exist only in stories.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin ran into Clarissa in the kitchens. He thanked her for covering for him during lunch, and offered that he could cover that night in her stead. It was only fair. She protested at first, but it wasn’t hard for him to convince her to leave the evening chores to him.

Arthur asked Merlin about the afternoon over supper, while Merlin stood by with the pitcher of wine. Merlin could only report on the suspicions that the baker’s youngest had been turned into a werewolf. He did not know what information Dean and Gwaine had acquired at the tavern.

“And what is your estimation of Sam and Dean’s characters?” Arthur asked Merlin. Merlin shot Gwen an apologetic look for monopolizing the conversation; the evening meal was usually a time for Arthur and Gwen to talk.

“I think they are good men and great warriors,” Merlin answered, and then added, “kind and thoughtful, but also not to be trifled with.”

“Would they best one of my knights in a fight?”

“I don’t know, Arthur, I’ve not seen them in battle, but I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if they could.”

From there normal conversation resumed between the King and Queen. Once the meal ended, Merlin helped Arthur out of the hated blue shirt and into his beloved armour, cleared away the empty plates, and left Arthur to bid Gwen goodnight in private.

After dumping the plates by the sink, Merlin had time to steal a roll and a leftover drumstick from the kitchen. Then he hurried to the armoury.

*

At dinner in the Knights’ Hall, Sam and Dean were formally introduced to Percival, who complimented Sam on his armour before furrowing his brow in a bit of confusion. Sam thanked him and quickly changed the topic – asking Percival how it was that he had come to Camelot.

Percival gave them a melancholy smile. He explained how first he had met Lancelot – who spoke to him very highly of Camelot and the friends he had made there. Together Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, and a quieter knight, whom Sam remembered Arthur addressed as Leon, told Sam and Dean about Morgana’s immortal army. The story was quite amazing, Sam had to admit.

Sam observed the camaraderie among the tables as he ate. Percival and Gwaine drew attention with their good-natured boasting, clearly to the admiration of several of the younger knights; another group of men were having a discussion in low voices with serious faces. Leon, the knight who had escorted them to meet Arthur that morning, said that not everyone would attend the evening meeting with Arthur. “Everyone is equal at the round table,” Leon explained, “but an army doesn’t work if every soldier is a commander. Arthur selects a few of us as leaders. We report to Arthur and the rest of the knights report to us.”

Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, Dean, and Sam were summoned to the armoury. Arthur walked in wearing chainmail and despite his still youthful face, the air of command about him was tangible. Sam straightened to attention along with the knights. The King looked around the room as though he had lost something and then rolled his eyes. He turned and stuck his head out the door and bellowed a loud, “MERLIN!” that echoed down the  corridors.

Sam glanced at the other knights and found them all wearing amused smiles.

Arthur sighed and turned back to the room, shaking his head.

“Leon?” Arthur asked.

“No news from Sir Glyn yet, Sire,” Leon answered.

Arthur nodded. “Percival?”

“The silversmith has made us a fair number of bolts. He also gifts you with this silver dagger.” Percival placed an elegantly simple dagger on the table in front of Arthur. Dean leaned forward and gave a quiet hum of approval. “He wishes only that we try to recover the bolts so that they may be melted down again,” Percival finished. “If not, he requests compensation.”

Arthur nodded, then suddenly quirked his head as if listening to something.

“My-” Leon started, but Arthur cut him off with a raised hand. That’s when Sam heard the footsteps running towards them. Seconds later, Merlin came barrelling through the door.

“Sorry I’m late!”

“And where have you been?” Arthur sighed.

“I had to pee,” Merlin shrugged with a smile. “Have Sam and Dean told you about our afternoon yet?”

“They were just about to,” Arthur answered, and looked at them. Sam realized that that was their cue to talk and nudged Dean in the back.

“Right,” Dean started. “The original werewolf is a male. His most recent strike was by the well, and it looks like he’s turned the baker’s daughter. The vamps, meanwhile, are staking out the tavern. The girl goes in, lures some poor guy out into the night with the promise of a good time, and then a second vamp swoops in for the kill...or, I hope it’s the kill, anyway. Now, it’s best to hunt the werewolves at night so that we can find the original and also get confirmation that the baker’s daughter really has been turned. The vamps though, it’s usually best to take them out during the day. The problem is the fact that they’ll probably kill again tonight, so we gotta be around to stop that.”

“Okay,” Arthur said. “Two small forces, one at the well the other by the tavern. Leon, I want you-”

“Whoa, hold it,” Dean said. “No.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur asked flatly.

“What my brother means... My Lord,” Sam said, “Is that he and I are much better trained to deal with this threat. It’s for the best if you just let us handle it.”

“Out of the question,” Arthur replied. “And if you interrupt me again, you won’t be involved at all.”

“Now, hold on-” Dean said, before Sam could kick him.

“You would have me let two strangers kill a citizen of Camelot and just trust that they are honest men?” Arthur asked, incredulous.

“That’s not-” Dean started.

“Of course not, Sire,” Sam interrupted. “But it’s much harder for us to do our jobs if we have to worry about protecting civilians-”

“The knights of Camelot are the finest in the land,” Arthur growled. Behind him, Merlin was making frantic ‘shut-up’ gestures.

“Fine,” Dean said. “Suit yourself. Can we at least agree that these forces have to be very small. I’m talking two or three men only, and that includes Sam and me.”

“I will go to the well with Leon and Sam,” Arthur announced, turning his attention back to the room at large. “Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, and Dean will watch the tavern. Those with me will need silver crossbow bolts and daggers, those with Gwaine can rely on their swords.”

“Yes, Sire.” The knights began to move around the room getting ready.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, picking up the silver dagger from the table and handing it to Merlin. “On this night, I would prefer if you were armed.”

Sam didn’t see Merlin’s response, as Percival and Leon  handed Sam a crossbow and five silver-tipped bolts.

“Take this.” Gwaine held out his silver dagger.

“Dammit, we should be handling this on our own,” Dean muttered to Sam. “Uh, I guess you’re in charge of the King’s safety now, Sammy, so... good luck?”

“Merlin’s coming with us,” Sam said. “I’m not too worried. You okay with Gwaine?”

“Yeah, he’s a decent guy,” Dean said.

“Good. See you in a few hours. Good luck with the vamps.”

*

The two groups walked together to the edge of the lower town. As they separated, Merlin saw Sam and Dean nod to each other. He wondered if it was a mistake to split the two of them up – but the brothers didn’t seem distressed, so Merlin’s nerves were somewhat eased.

The plan was to head to the bakery first,  on the chance that Lillian might lead them to the one that had changed her.

“How can we be certain that she has become one of these creatures?” Arthur asked as they walked.

“We’ve seen this before, trust me,” Sam said. “She was attacked two nights ago, this morning she woke covered in blood – she’s been turned.”

“But she claimed it was her own blood,” Arthur pressed. Sam threw Merlin a look over his shoulder. Merlin just shrugged – obviously he had relayed the entire afternoon to Arthur over supper. Sam shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“She lied,” Sam said. “It’s hardly something you’d want to admit to the King’s men, is it?”

“I suppose,” Arthur admitted, “but I won’t condemn her to death without proof.”

“I understand, but you can’t just walk up to a werewolf and ask-”

Just then, they turned a corner and came in sight of the bakery. In the cool light of the moon, they could see a hunched figure in a night dress moving slowly in the direction of the well. Sam immediately pushed Arthur into the shadow of the building beside them. Sam was focused solely on Lillian, and did not see the fierce look Arthur shot him, though Merlin did.

Sam pulled the crossbow from his shoulder and readied a bolt, nodding at Leon who did the same.

“Be on the lookout for the other one,” Sam turned and whispered back to Leon and Merlin. “Werewolves often turn people they have an interest in. Odds are he’ll be drawn to her again, and-”

Sam stopped as both he and Merlin realized that Arthur was no longer beside them. Arthur had stepped into the street during the seconds that Sam had been talking to Merlin and Leon.

“Damn it!” Sam brought the crossbow up, but Arthur stood between Sam and the girl.

“Hold! Declare yourself!” Arthur drew his sword as he stepped closer to the stooped figure.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Sam threw the crossbow to the side and leapt forward just as Lillian turned towards Arthur with an inhuman face and an equally inhuman snarl. She exploded into sudden movement. She was too fast, Merlin could see that Arthur wasn’t going to be able to swing his sword in time.

Before the werewolf made contact with Arthur, Sam grabbed Arthur by his chainmail hood and threw him to the ground, letting speed and weight propel him as he tackling the werewolf. Then Sam and the monster were rolling in the street. The snarly noises of the creature were suddenly punctuated by a cry of pain from Sam. Merlin could see Sam’s arms straining as he lay on his back underneath the monster, his hands around the werewolf’s neck to keep her teeth from closing in on his unprotected skin.

Leon dropped his useless crossbow and darted towards the struggle. Arthur was also getting to his feet, his own dagger drawn. Merlin’s only thought was to keep Arthur away from those teeth. Thinking quickly, Merlin saw the heavy wooden shop-keeper’s sign hanging close to Arthur, and, with a flare of magic and a gust of wind, the sign was falling between Arthur and the melee. Only as it fell did Merlin realize that the sign was too close to Arthur. It knocked him onto his back as it toppled and also cut off Leon’s attempt to rescue Sam, as Arthur fell into him.

“No!” Merlin cried. He fumbled for the dagger at his waist, rushing forward. Before Merlin reached Sam, a shattering howl erupted out of Lillian’s small frame as she arched back, the moonlight reflecting off the dagger piercing her chest. Sam pushed her suddenly limp body aside as he took in deep gulping breaths.

Merlin looked over at Arthur, who was staring at Lillian’s dead body – now deceptively human in appearance. Leon ran forward and offered a hand to Sam, who was pushing himself to his feet.

“Are you all right, Arthur?” Merlin asked softly.

“I’m fine,” Arthur said, staring at the sign, and then up to the broken chain that had held it up. “Did you see that?”

“A gust of wind,” Merlin said. “The chain must have been rusted through.” Merlin turned his attention, and hopefully also Arthur’s, to Sam. There was dark blood running down Sam’s arms. “Sam? Are you all right? Let me-”

“It’s okay, she just clawed- GET DOWN!”

Sam jumped at Arthur, knocking Arthur to the side again and plowing into the second werewolf mid-leap.

“Merlin! Give me your dagger,” Leon yelled, as he rushed toward the tangle of monster and man. Merlin threw the dagger towards Leon’s outstretched hand, a burst of magic ensuring that his aim was true and the hilt landed safely in Leon’s palm.

“Hold him! Hold him!” Leon yelled, then he thrust the silver blade in the creature’s back. Sam jerked away from the death snap of its teeth.

Merlin’s heart was pounding in the sudden silence.

“A little help, please?” Sam said, pushing against the weight of the dead creature pinning him. Leon helped him shift the body. The werewolf, who now looked like just a man, was in strange clothes.

“You saved my life,” Arthur said, as soon as Sam was on his feet.

“I shouldn’t have had to!” Sam replied angrily. Leon’s eyes went wide and Arthur looked taken aback. Merlin’s heart now raced for an entirely different reason. Sam was terrifying, angry, covered in blood, and suddenly very much a man of legend towering above them in righteous fury. “This is exactly why we work alone, so that idiots like you don’t get themselves killed!”

“I’ll forgive your words because I owe you a debt,” Arthur said evenly, his jaw tense, ““but you will speak to me with respect.”

Merlin wondered how Arthur kept so calm – perhaps it was simply his ignorance as to who Sam really was. Merlin felt, though, that even if he hadn’t known Sam’s true identity, he would have still been as intimidated.

“I’ll speak to you with respect when you’ve earned it!”

“I am the King!”

“Lot of good that would do if you’re dead!” Sam snarled, “Or a werewolf! What part of ‘one bite’ don’t you understand, Arthur?! All it would have taken is one bite, and you’d be a curse on your own people – is that what you want? So when I say to stay back, you STAY BACK! And when I say someone’s a werewolf, you TRUST ME. You want me to treat you with respect? You... goddamn...”

Sam clenched a fist and breathed deeply instead of finishing his sentence. Merlin watched warily. Sam was the fiercest of warriors – more dangerous than his brother, if the stories were to be believed. The dragon had warned Merlin not to anger the brothers.

Leon tensed, his hand on the hilt of his sword, waiting for his King’s command. Arthur was staring at Sam dumbfounded.

“I thought your brother said that one had to swallow the blood of the monster to become-” Arthur started to say.

“That’s the _vampires_ ,” Sam cut him off, speaking slowly through his teeth. “These are _werewolves_. It only takes one bite and there is no cure. Do you understand?”

Arthur nodded, his eyes now wide and staring at Sam’s bleeding arms.

“They’re just scratches,” Sam said, following the King’s stare.

“I can take you to Gaius,” Merlin offered, trying to diffuse the atmosphere. Sam looked at him confused. Merlin pointed to blood on Sam’s arms. “To, er... tend to your wounds, My Lord.” Merlin couldn’t help but drop his eyes in deference.

“Right, fine,” Sam said, before he took a deep breath and turned back to Arthur. “I’m sorry for getting angry, but I hardly want the King’s death on my hands.”

“He has a point, Arthur-” Merlin started.

“Thank you, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur cut him off, glaring.  Merlin cringed, realizing just how much of Arthur’s ego had been injured that night. Arthur turned back to Sam. “I apologize for my behavior that resulted in your injury tonight. Merlin, take Sam to Gaius and see that his wounds are tended to, and see that Gwaine reports immediately to me upon his return.” Having humbled himself enough, Arthur resumed his imperious tone. “And Merlin, you have chores to do, you’ve been slacking off lately and I’ll have an end to it. Leon, have these bodies removed from the street.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Leon said, but he continued to stare at Sam.

“Go,” Arthur barked. Leon flinched and ran off. As they turned to walk back to the castle, Merlin undid his neckerchief and handed it to Sam, to wrap around the worst of the wounds. Even as the fabric darkened with blood, Sam walked with powerful strides back to the castle, head high and back straight. Merlin followed a pace behind, Arthur a distance behind them. Merlin knew Arthur needed a moment to scrape back together his dignity.

“Merlin,” Sam said. “Find me armour with some goddamn sleeves, would you?”

“Yes, My Lord,” Merlin cringed.

*

  
While walking to the tavern they decided that Percival and Elyan would check out the inside of the tavern, while Dean and Gwaine would wait outside. They’d wait until she picked her vic of the night, and then follow at a distance and hope she lead them to her mate.

They hadn’t been waiting long, when they heard a distant howl pierce the night air. Gwaine turned his head towards the sound, concerned, but Dean smiled.

“Good job, Sammy.” 

Gwaine looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Death howl,” Dean stated. They resumed silent their watch of the tavern door.

“I have a question,” Gwaine said after a few minutes. “If these creatures are not of this world, how do you know so much about them?”

“Books,” Dean said, because it was the answer that Merlin gave whenever they asked him how he knew so much about them.

“But we found no mention of them.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dean shrugged, “I guess we have different books.” At Gwaine’s measured look, Dean added, “Look I don’t know what to tell you, life is very strange and full of mystery.”

Dean kept his gaze firmly on the tavern, even though he could feel Gwaine’s bemused gaze boring into him.

“You don’t seem the reading type,” Gwaine finally said.

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” Dean muttered, just as the door of the tavern opened and a woman dressed in what looked to be an altered Victorian dress emerged. She was leading a rosy-nosed older man. “Take for instance, that lovely woman there,” Dean said. “Would you describe that dress as ‘fine’? Would you say that she looked charming?”

“Aye, I would indeed,” Gwaine said, growing serious. “I would believe she were a Lady, save for the fact that Ladies don’t often visit the taverns, nor leave on the arms of peasants.”

“Right,” Dean said, “and that’s because she’s not a Lady at all, but a bloodsucking freak who’s about to make a meal of that peasant. Let’s go.”

Seeing Elyan and Percival exit the tavern, Dean nodded in the direction the vampire was taking the victim. They watched as she was leaned into the man flirtatiously, before pulling him into an alley. Dean signalled Percival and Elyan to circle around as he and Gwaine took the more direct route.

As they approached the mouth of the alley, they could hear the woman giggling. The man had her pressed up against the wall. Dean scanned the shadows for her partner, but didn’t see any sign of him.

The woman abruptly flipped her and the victim’s position, the guy grunted as he hit the wall. . Then her hand was on his chin, forcing his head to the side.

“Damn it,” Dean muttered. Percival and Elyan appeared at the far end of the alley just as the woman latched onto her victim’s neck.

Dean rushed forward, the noise of his approach causing the vampire to stop feeding and turn towards him. Dean swung his sword, severing her head with one strike. The body toppled, nearly falling against the poor freaked-out drunk. The victim now had his hand pressed to his neck as he stared at Dean with terror.

The Knights surrounded Dean as he stayed ready for, in case the newly turned mate appeared, but the only sound was the victim’s panicked whimpering.

“Hey, you had to have known that was too good to be true, man,” Dean said as he moved the man’s hand to check the bite.  “You’re fine. Go home, sleep it off. Pretend it was a bad dream, understand?”

The man nodded and scrambled past the body and fled.

“I thought you said there were two?” Gwaine said.

“There are,” Dean replied, sheathing his sword. “Apparently they’re not hunting together tonight, though. We’ll have to get the second one tomorrow. It’ll be easier in the day, he’ll be slower. Hopefully he’s too stupid to leave town.”

Percival wrapped the woman’s body and head in his cloak to take the corpse back as proof for the king. As they approached the castle gate they found Leon with two guards who were carrying two similarly wrapped bodies.

“Got’em both, I see,” Dean greeted with a smile. “Did better than us, then, we only got the one.” Dean jerked his head to indicate the body in Percival’s arms.

“Er, yes,” Leon nodded hesitantly. “Gwaine, you’re to report to the King. Percival,” Leon indicated the other guards with a wave of his hand, and Percival followed them to dispose of the bodies. “Dean, you’ll find your brother with Gaius.”

Dean felt the smile slip of his face. “Why will I find my brother with Gaius?”

Leon seemed to tense. “I assure you, his injuries do not appear to be life threatening.”

Dean growled and charged away, leaving Elyan, Gwaine, and Leon still standing by the castle gate..

“Should I follow him?” he could hear Elyan ask.

“I think perhaps it’s wiser to accompany me to see the King,” Gwaine replied. “What happened, Leon?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it...” Leon started but then Dean was far enough away that he couldn’t make out their words anymore.

He jogged the rest of the way to the physician’s room, luckily remembering the way from the day before. By the time he arrived, his imagination had run through every worse-case scenario that he could think of. He opened the door with a little more force than necessary, causing all the occupants of the room to flinch. Sam was sitting on a bench as Gaius smothered his arm in green goo. Bloody rags were strewn on the floor, and Merlin was laying white bandages out on the table. Sam’s arms were covered in claw marks, some still bleeding underneath the thick salve that Gaius was spreading over them.

“What the hell happened?!”

*

Merlin revised his earlier assessment and decided that contrary to the stories, Dean was definitely the scarier brother.

“I’m going to rip his lungs out!” Dean yelled, once Sam had recounted the fight.

“Please don’t,” Merlin said. “If you try to kill Arthur, then I’m going to have to kill you – and I really, really don’t want to do that.” And if his voice rose in a childish whine, that was neither here nor there – it had been a long night.

Dean paused and gave Merlin an odd look.

“He doesn’t mean it, Merlin,” Sam murmured softly. Gaius gave Merlin a concerned glance and continued to wrap Sam’s injured arms in bandages.

“Fine, yeah, no killing,” Dean nodded, showing his empty palms to Merlin, before pointing decisively. “But I will have _words_ with the royal idiot. _Strong_ words!”

Merlin deflated. Sam sighed.

“Dean, I already did and he already apologized,” Sam said.

“Please, can you just leave it,” Merlin begged. “It’ll hurt his pride, and he always assigns me more chores when his pride’s been hurt.”

“Dude, why do you even put up with him?” Dean asked, throwing his arms in the air.

“It’s my destiny,” Merlin shrugged.

“Yeah, well screw destiny!” Dean replied. “You don’t have to put up with this shit.”

Merlin stared at him. “You can’t screw destiny!”

“Why not?” Dean asked. “Me and Sammy do it all the time.”

“You- what- but- that’s-... that’s different,” Merlin stuttered.

“How?” Dean asked.

“It’s just a story,” Merlin answered.

“Funny, I look pretty real to me,” Dean rolled his eyes, but then he sighed. “Listen, it’s late, we’re tired. I don’t want to fight with you, Merlin. I won’t yell at your precious idiot of a king, okay? Unless he does something else monumentally stupid.”

“Thanks,” Merlin answered, a little stunned.

“How’d it go with the vamps?” Sam asked, as though Dean had just returned from meeting the monsters for tea.

“Got one of ‘em,” Dean said. “Gwaine and I will ride out tomorrow at noon to get the other. I think I know where it’s holed up.”

Merlin listened to Dean and Sam talk about the night’s events for a few more minutes before taking his leave. He still needed to do Arthur’s washing before the morning, and as he ran through the list of chores in his head, he also realized that he hadn’t seen to Arthur’s horse today either. Hopefully the stable hands had picked up the slack, but there was a good chance that Arthur would want to ride out with Gwaine and Dean the next day as well.


	6. Chapter 6

A soft knock woke Dean, followed by the sound of the door opening. Disoriented in the new motel, he pushed his hand under his pillow for the grip of his gun only to grasp nothing. A flash of panic rushed through him, until he heard Sam sleepily grunt,  “Hey, Merlin,” and then the previous day flooded Dean’s memory. Dean rolled over and sat up.

“Good morning, Sam,” Merlin smiled. He was carrying a bundle of leather and cloth, as well as a jar of something. “I’ve managed to find you something with sleeves. It’s not chainmail, I’m afraid, but it was all I could get. I hope it will be satisfactory. How are your arms feeling?”

Merlin walked over to where Sam was sitting up in bed in his loose t-shirt. It was odd to have someone who wasn’t family in the room when they weren’t even dressed, but although Sam looked a little uncomfortable, Merlin didn’t bat an eyelash. But then, he seemed to pull double duty as Gaius’ assistant, so Dean figured that Merlin was probably used to treating half-dressed patients under the physician’s care.

“Little itchy,” Sam said, twisting his arms experimentally. “A little sore. It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”

“If the stories are true, that tells me nothing,” Merlin smiled. “I’ll change your bandages while I’m here and have a look for myself, if you don’t mind.”

“Uh, okay,” Sam said. Merlin immediately reached forward and started unwrapping Sam’s arms. Dean contemplated rolling over and going back to sleep, but then figured he might as well take the opportunity to call first shower-

“Uh, Merlin? Where do you bathe around here?”

“Oh, just ask one of the servants to draw you a bath. You’re fairly close to the kitchens, so it shouldn’t take long to fill the tub. Give me a moment, and I’ll give them the request myself and ask them to bring you some breakfast as well – I’m afraid you two have slept through the knight’s breakfast in the dining hall.”

Dean hadn’t even considered what a lack of indoor plumbing would mean for bathing.“Uh, maybe I’m not that dirty,” Dean sighed. “But, yeah, breakfast would be good.”

“I wouldn’t mind washing my hair,” Sam said, blowing a slightly greasy lock out of his face. “I don’t suppose you guys have any shampoo, though.”

“Sham-what?” Merlin asked.

“Uh, soap? For the hair?” Sam tried. Merlin gave him a look, but then nodded.

“I think I know what you mean,” Merlin said. “I’ll send Mary for something.”

When Merlin left, Sam put on some pants and Dean used the chamber pot. Even the crappiest motel back home had  indoor plumbing – the thought that one of the servants would actually have to clean the pot made Dean grimace in sympathy.  

He splashed some water on his face from a small basin sitting on a dresser, rubbing a hand over the day’s growth of beard – he’d have to see about getting a razor at some point. Merlin returned and  started spreading fresh salve on Sam’s wounds, a little hurriedly, while Dean dressed.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay long today,” Merlin said. “Clarissa covered for me a lot yesterday, and when I ran into her this morning she wasn’t feeling well. I think she may have overworked herself, so I told her to take the day off and rest and I’d cover for her today in repayment. Only, it means that I’ve got to attend Gwen as well as Arthur. So, instead of being able to polish Arthur’s armour this morning while he read his documents, I had to braid Gwen’s hair...which I’ve thankfully become quite good at... but now I’ve got to figure out how to both attend Arthur at court and polish his armour before noon. In any case, if you need anything, Gwaine and Leon are next door, and Mary and Callum will be here shortly with your breakfast and to help with Sam’s hair – so you should have everything you need, and I once again apologize for-“

“Merlin,” Dean cut in. “Breathe.”

Merlin blushed

“Sorry,” He said sheepishly. He carefully started re-bandaging Sam’s arms. At the knock on the door Merlin called, “Enter!” before Sam and Dean could.

Mary came in carrying a bucket of water and a small cloth bag, holding the door for Callum who was carrying two trays of food. They gave quick bows to Sam and Dean.

“Breakfast, My Lords,” Callum said.

“And when Merlin is done, I can assist with your hair, My Lord,” Mary said to Sam, with a small, unsure smile.

Dean watched Sam smile back reassuringly. Callum bowed briefly again when Dean thanked him for the food. Callum disappeared out the door, giving Mary an odd smile on his way out.

There was sausage, fruit, and bread on the plates – not a bad breakfast.

Merlin finished off the last of Sam’s bandages and straightened up.

“All done,” Merlin said. “Again, if you need anything, just ask the servants, or one of the knights. Gwaine or Leon will fetch you at noon. You’re to ride out for the hunt then, Arthur and I will be joining you.”

Dean sighed, earning an apologetic look from Merlin, but Arthur wanting to ride out with them was hardly a surprise.

“Thanks Merlin,” Sam said, and Merlin left with the used bandages.

“I can wash your hair now, if you like, My Lord,” Mary smiled. She began emptying the contents of the cloth bag onto the table. There was a battered cup, some small bottles of liquid, and a hairbrush.

“That’d be great,” Sam smiled, eyeing the bucket of water. “How do we do this?”

Mary turned the chair around at the end of the long table opposite Dean, so that its back was to the table. She set the bucket of water on the table, and directed Sam to sit in the chair. She gently pulled Sam’s head back until he was looking up at her with his head over the bucket. She then carefully used the cup to scoop up water and poor it over Sam’s hair.

Mary uncorked one of her bottles and started massaging some oil into Sam’s hair, and while she did she chatted away – like it was a weird medieval hair salon, and there was no way Dean wasn’t teasing Sam about this later. She mostly talked about the weather, and how she used to attend the ladies at court, but that she much preferred the Knights, because there were far less laces to deal with. Sam just said ‘uh huh’ and ‘hmm’ the whole time Mary talked, but that seemed to work just fine. Dean even found himself doing the same while he ate.

Once she had rinsed out Sam’s hair, she dried it in a towel – mussing Sam’s hair for so long that when she pulled the towel away it stuck out every which way and made Dean laugh.

“You can eat while I brush it for you,” Mary offered Sam, picking up the hairbrush.

“I can brush it,” Sam blushed.

“Oh, it’s no trouble!” Mary insisted. “You have such nice hair, I’d be my pleasure.”

Sam blushed more and wouldn’t meet Dean’s gaze, but he dutifully pulled his chair over to his breakfast plate and didn’t object when Mary picked up the hair brush and started slowly working on Sam’s hair.

“I helped the Lady Mithrin’s maid with her hair when she came to court,” Mary started explaining. “And of course, back when the Lady Mor-... that is... years ago, when we had a Lady at court and when the King was still the Prince and had not yet married, we used to have more Lady visitors – and even those that brought their own maids would sometimes require a spare hand. When the Queen was only a maid, sometimes she would have me wash her Lady’s hair while she tended to the mending – nowadays, of course, the Queen has Clarissa and I have enough work keeping up with the knights, but I always did enjoy attending to the Ladies’ hair, and so it was a pleasant surprise when Merlin asked if I could attend you this morning. You do have such beautiful hair...”

“Wait a moment,” Dean interrupted, a slow smile creeping over his face. Mary stopped talking and looked up at him. “Are you saying that this is a service that’s usually only requested by Ladies?”

“Aye, My Lord,” Mary answered without blinking. “’Tis why I was surprised – but pleasantly so. Usually the knights just dunk their heads in the bathwater.”

Dean smiled as Sam’s eyes widened briefly before closing in what could only be mortification as realization sank in.

“Well, they don’t know what they’re missing, do they?” Dean winked.

Mary hummed her agreement.

*

They spent the rest of the morning exploring the castle. Dean wanted to see as much as he could before they killed the last vamp that afternoon and Merlin sent them back home. Sam didn’t even give him a hard time about it, which Dean knew meant that he was just as curious as Dean. Yes, it was inconvenient to be summoned across dimensions against their will, and Dean really hoped that Cas wasn’t freaking out about them being missing back in their own universe, but if he looked past all that... well, it wasn’t every day a person got the chance to see Camelot.

They found a library, which Sam very much wanted to stay in, but apparently the grouchy old caretaker didn’t like strangers touching his books – so instead they climbed towers and surveyed the landscape. Eventually, they found themselves walking along the top of a wall that overlooked what could only be the training ground. Among the figures in chainmail having mock duels with swords and maces and shooting crossbows at wooden targets, Dean recognized Gwaine, Elyan, and Leon. It looked awesome.

“You want to check it out?” Sam smiled.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, and they headed back for the stairs – trying to find their way through the maze of the castle to the training grounds. Eventually, they came upon a corridor they recognized from the previous night – the one that led to the armoury.

While Dean was still tempted to go out and watch the training close-up, the opportunity to check out Camelot’s weapons was too good to pass up. All the knights were at practice, the armoury would be deserted. Dean knocked Sam’s arm and nodded his head towards to the door Sam shrugged and followed.

The armoury wasn’t empty though. Sir Percival was sitting on a bench in the corner polishing armour with an old rag.

“Oh,” Dean said, caught off guard and freezing partway into the room so that Sam nearly crashed into his back. “Hi, we-”

Percival immediately held a finger to his lips, and then looked to a corner of the room. Dean followed his gaze and realized that Merlin was curled up fast asleep. His head was pillowed on his folded up jacket and he was covered in one of the knights’ red capes.

“Sorry,” Percival whispered. “I don’t want to wake him. Can I help you with something?”

“No,” Dean whispered back, as he walked over to stand closer to Percival so that their voices wouldn’t disturb Merlin. “We were just exploring. What, uh... why’s he sleeping in here?” Dean knew Merlin had his own room. Dean had helped Merlin carry his bed back into it after all the blood had been mopped up.

“He was falling asleep sitting up,” Percival replied. “So, I offered to finish polishing Arthur’s armour for him while he caught a few minutes sleep.”

“That’s nice of you,” Sam said, running a finger over the intricate design caved into the shoulder of Arthur’s armour.

“I do what I can for him,” Percival said, with an odd sad tone. “It never feels like enough.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, and Dean felt a wave of affection for his brother when he recognised the tone. Sam would have made a good therapist in another life.

“Before we came to Camelot, Lancelot used to talk about him all the time,” Percival replied. “He said that Merlin was a true friend, loyal to Arthur, and the bravest man he knew, but he also said that Merlin needed a friend to watch out for him. Lancelot never told me why... but I see it now – Merlin does not know his own limits. He rides into the heart of battles unarmed at Arthur’s side and he often overworks himself. When Lancelot... left us... I swore to myself that I would watch over Merlin, and Gwen, in his memory. I have at times failed.”

“Kid looks okay to me,” Dean offered, with another glance at where Merlin still slept in the corner.

Percival nodded, and gave Merlin’s sleeping form a small smile.

“You’ll watch out for him then, when you ride out with the King shortly?” Percival stated.

“Of course,” Dean said. “Though, judging from what Sam tells me, the King is more likely to stupidly put himself in danger than Merlin is.”

“And if he does, Merlin will be a step behind him,” Percival said. “And only Arthur carries a sword.”

“Just because someone is unarmed, that doesn’t mean they’re defenceless,” Sam interjected. Percival gave him a bemused look, but before he could ask anything, there was a growing clatter of footsteps and loud voices coming down the hallway.

Leon was first into the room, the rest of the knights filing in behind him.

“Finished?” Leon asked. “Arthur will have dismissed court by now, Merlin needs to get to the kitchens.”

“Finished,” Percival confirmed. “Thank you for allowing me to miss training.”

Gwaine was already in the corner shaking Merlin awake.

“Already?!” Merlin’s whine broke the silence, and a good number of the knights chuckled, but in the next moment, Merlin was moving as though he had never been asleep – putting back on his ragged jacket and scooping up Arthur’s amour.

“Thanks Percival,” Merlin smiled. “I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t,” Percival sighed, but Merlin was already half way out the door calling “See you after lunch, Leon!” as he left.

“You fellows should have come to practice,” Gwaine grinned at Dean. “I would have loved to test your skills.”

Sam laughed. “You’d probably win. We don’t have a lot of practice with duelling – our enemies are usually the tooth and claw type.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dean said, hitting Sam. “I bet I could take him.”

There was a laugh from the other knights, and Leon leaned over towards Dean. “Gwaine’s the best swordsman in Camelot...” there were nods of agreement among the nights, and then Leon added, “...except for the King.”

“We’ve yet to prove that,” Gwaine argued.

From there the conversation led to arguments about how fair fights were when you had a duty to protect your opponent, and whether or not King Arthur could best Leon at archery... and Dean loved every minute of it.

*

Sam observed quietly while they followed the knights to the mess hall for lunch. He preferred to watch Dean – they’d only been in Camelot for a day and a half, and already Dean had established friendships with the knights. Sam could tell that Dean was having the time of his life.

After the meal, Gwaine and Leon took Sam and Dean to the stables to get horses. Sam didn’t bother to lie about their horse riding experience. Traveling on foot wasn’t too uncommon, Sam hoped. Leon nodded and selected two horses that he said would be easy for novice riders, and told the stable boys to saddle them.

There was a brief wait in the courtyard until Arthur strode out of the castle with Merlin on his heels. Merlin checked Arthur’s saddle and waited until the king was mounted before scurrying to his own horse and scrambling onto it. Arthur smiled up at the castle, and Sam saw the Queen standing by the open door. She waved, a gesture which Arthur returned, and then Sam saw Merlin give her a nod.

“Come on, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur ordered, as though Merlin was holding them all up, and Arthur turned his horse and the party was off. Thankfully, Sam and Dean’s horses seemed to know to follow the others without much guiding.

They rode through the lower town and out onto a road surrounded by farmers fields. The horses slowed as they took a fork left towards the forest. They passed by an orchard, where Gwaine reached out and plucked an apple from a branch. He took a bite that Sam could hear even over the noise of the horses’ hooves on the hard ground.

“Didn’t you just eat?” Arthur asked from the front of the line.

“‘S dessert,” Gwaine said around a second bite, but then he sighed, and kicked his horse forward a little more. “Fine. Merlin?” When Merlin looked back, Gwaine threw him the apple, “Catch!”

Merlin’s hands shot out automatically and he only fumbled the apple a little.  He smiled in confusion, but then dusted off the side of the apple that Gwaine hadn’t bitten and took a bite. His smile turned a little wicked as his gaze slide to the side of Arthur’s face.

“Oh don’t you start too,” Arthur muttered. “Get rid of it.”

“We shouldn’t waste food, Arthur,” Merlin said.

“I should have learned my lesson about putting the two of you together by now,” Arthur answered.

“Well, you’ve always been a bit slow, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Merlin said, before taking another bite.

Sam smiled. Leon and Gwaine were biting their lips, but it was Dean that let out an audible huff of laughter that caused Arthur to stiffen.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, and there was no longer humour in it. “That’s enough.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Merlin replied, and he tossed the apple to the side of the road.  Gwaine looked at it forlornly as he rode past.

The trees bracketing the road ended and a small cottage came into view. A man in a large brimmed hat was harnessing an ox to a wooden cart. Sam was surprised when Arthur slowed his horse to a stop and looked back at him and Dean.

“What’s our plan?” Arthur asked.

“Sam tells me you make good bait,” Dean said, and Sam’s stomach dropped at his tone. “So, the plan is for you to go do what comes naturally, and we’ll make sure you don’t get killed, Your Highness.”

Sam had been too worried about riding a horse and too distracted by the banter between Arthur, Gwaine, and Merlin that he had completely forgotten to worry about the fact that Dean was still pissed at Arthur for last night. Sam tried to give Arthur an apologetic look, but Arthur was too busy glaring at Dean.

“Very well,” Arthur ground out, and then kicked his horse into motion. Merlin followed along with the rest of the knights.

“Dean,” Sam said through his teeth, but Dean’s gave him a quick sequence of hand motions told Sam the plan in three seconds, and Sam nodded and turned his horse to follow the others.

The man in the hat saw them approach and stopped what he was doing. Sam could see from yards off how nervous he was. Sam spurred his horse to run quicker, and dismounted right after Arthur did.

“Sire,” the man bowed low, his face disappearing completely into the shadow cast by his hat’s brim. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“We’re tracking a beast,” Arthur said, his authoritative tone completely different than the way he had just been talking with Merlin and his knights. The man fiddled with his long cuffs. Sam moved towards the cart, and the man shot him a brief anxious glance. “We were wondering if you’ve seen anything suspicious, since you live so close to the Darkling Wood.”

“No, nothing, Sire,” the man said, his voice shaking. “It’s been quiet here.”

“Nice hat,” Sam commented, carefully drawing the man’s attention away from Arthur. Sam nodded toward the cart, where Sam could see a large blanket covering the load it contained. “What are you transporting here?”

“A-apples,” the man answered, moving his body to block Sam from coming any closer, “for the market.”

“Shouldn’t you have transported those this morning?” Arthur asked, and the man’s gaze darted momentarily back to the King. It was the distraction Sam needed.

“Show us your teeth!” Sam commanded, while in one move he unsheathed his sword and swung it menacingly in front of the man, not actually close enough to connect, but close enough to cause the man’s survival reflex to kick in.

The man leapt a step backward, a second set of teeth descending menacingly as he snarled. Sam heard all the swords around him draw, but before the vampire could leap, a blade severed his head from behind. The body fell to the ground and the head rolled away on the grass.

Dean bent over and used the dead vamp’s shirt to wipe off his sword.

“Proof enough, your Highness?” Dean asked.

Arthur’s slack jaw clenched tightly closed.

“Someone needs to make sure there aren’t any more in the house,” Sam said, trying to avoid any arguments between Dean and Arthur. Arthur nodded and he and his knights turned to circle and search the house. Dean went with them, but Sam noted that he let Arthur take the lead.

“Do you think he was fleeing?” Merlin asked, his attention on the hitched cart.

“Let’s find out,” Sam said, and he reached over and pulled away the blanket.

“Shit,” Sam swore. Under the blanket was an unconscious man, dried blood caked around his collar.

Merlin immediately scrambled up into the cart.

“Merlin!”

“He’s still alive!” Merlin tore a strip off the man’s shirt to hold to his bleeding neck. Just then, Arthur and the others came out of the house.

“Check his teeth!” Sam ordered Merlin, as Arthur and the knights ran over.

“What?” Merlin said. “I need to get him back to Gaius-”

“Check his teeth,” Sam repeated. He stepped up onto the cart and pulled Merlin back forcibly.

“Hey!” Merlin protested, but Sam forced his fingers into the unconscious man’s mouth and felt along the gum lines.

“He’s human,” Sam sighed in relief.

“He’ll be a corpse if you don’t let me get him back to Gaius,” Merlin said, hitting Sam on the shoulder.

“Merlin,” Dean reprimanded, “We needed to be sure.”

“Sorry, My Lord,” Merlin muttered.

“There was no one in the house,” Arthur announced, once Sam had jumped back off the cart.

“Someone needs to ride ahead and alert Gaius. This man’s lost a lot of blood,” Merlin continued talking as though Arthur hadn’t spoken. “We’ll have to leave him in the cart. I fear he’s too weak to be put on a horse.”

Sam watched as Arthur signalled Leon, who mounted his horse and quickly rode back toward Camelot.

“Merlin, you drive the cart, Gwaine will stay with you and lead your horse,” Arthur instructed.

And so, Dean and Sam found themselves riding alone with King Arthur back to the castle, as the ox-pulled cart was significantly slower. To say the trip was awkward would have been an understatement. Sam wasn’t actually sure who was angrier, Arthur or Dean.

“Do you think that’s the last of them?” Arthur finally spoke as the lower town came into view.

“Should be, yeah,” Dean answered.

“So you’ll be leaving then?” Arthur asked curtly. It was clear that Arthur wanted nothing better than to see the back of them.

“We’ll wait a bit,” Sam answered, because Sam wasn’t sure how much time Merlin needed to unsummon them. “Just to make sure that there are no more attacks, and then we’ll be out of your hair, I promise.”

Arthur nodded.

“If you’re mad at me about the bait comment,” Dean said. “I’m not apologizing. You didn’t listen and it got my brother hurt.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed.

“No, he’s right,” Arthur looked back at Sam briefly. “I didn’t trust you when I should have. I still don’t trust you.”

“People rarely do,” Sam shrugged. They rode into the court yard and dismounted.

“Who are you really?” Arthur asked, turning to them, while the stable boys came running to take the horses.

Sam tried to keep his expression relaxed, even while his heart picked up its pace.

“What do you mean?” Dean said. “We told you-”

“Merlin called you ‘My Lord,’” Arthur said.

“Isn’t that...isn’t that what servants do?” Sam tried for a smile.

“Not Merlin,” Arthur shook his head.

“Are you jealous?” Dean joked. Sam really wanted to kick him.

“He also acts as though he’s afraid of you,” Arthur continued as though Dean hadn’t spoken, “but Merlin’s not afraid of anyone, even when he has every reason to be. He’s an idiot that way.”

“Don’t know what to tell ya,” Dean shrugged. Arthur furrowed his brow at them and visibly readied another question.

“Arthur!”

All of three of them turned at the Queen’s voice. Arthur’s expression changed immediately into a reassuring smile as he climbed the stairs to join his wife halfway.

“I saw Leon on his way to Gaius. Is someone hurt?” the Queen asked.

“We found another victim that still lived....” Arthur began to report. Dean put his hand on Sam’s forearm and pulled him away from the King and Queen.

“I think we better make ourselves scarce while he’s distracted,” Dean muttered, and Sam couldn’t have agreed more.


	7. Chapter 7

They went back to their room for lack of anything else to do. They were in it long enough for Dean to complain about the lack of TV and Sam to complain about the lack of computer and wifi, when there was a knock at the door. Dean answered to find Gwaine, Percival, and Leon, all smiling from ear to ear.

“Hello lads,” Gwaine said. “We realized that we had been remiss in our duties, for we never did give you a proper welcome in a fashion befitting the knights of Camelot. And that simply will not do – not when it was commanded by his Royal Pratness.”

“Gwaine,” Leon sighed, but the reprimand was ruined by his smile.

“What?” Gwaine said, “that’s what Merlin calls him.”

Percival rolled his eyes, and then motioned for Dean to follow him. “Come on, we’ve...  _acquired_ a few kegs of the Camelot’s finest ale, and if we don’t hurry the squires will get at it before we do.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so,” Dean smirked.

They followed the three knights to the mess hall full of men in chainmail and red capes. A huge cheer sounded as Sam and Dean walked in, and Dean grinned at the welcome.

“Don’t get too excited,” Leon laughed. “Gwaine told them they weren’t allowed to open the kegs until they saw you.”

Dean laughed with him. A moment later, as the ale was being served, Gwaine jumped on top of one of the tables, a mug of ale raised in their direction.

“To Dean and Sam, who have rid Camelot of the monsters that plagued it and taught King Arthur some humility, all out of nothing but the goodness of their hearts!”

“Hear, hear!” the knights chorused. A squire handed ale to Dean and Sam to join in the toast.

“And to those we could not save,” Leon added somberly.

“Hear, hear!” the knights called again, although more subdued. Dean saw Gwaine give a begrudging look to Leon as they all took a drink, then Gwaine raised his glass in the air once more.

“To Camelot!” Gwaine yelled.

“To Camelot!” The room resounded, good mood restored. Gwaine smiled and leapt off the table with natural grace.

The other knights were eager to hear of the hunt, and Dean let Gwaine tell it, since he seemed to love telling stories. Gwaine’s recounting made it seem much more impressive than it had felt to Dean at the time. Leon then spoke up telling the story of how Sam had fought the werewolves with his bare hands and saved the King the night before. Leon was much more diplomatic than Gwaine, glossing over the part where Arthur had been a moron.

Other tales of adventures with King Arthur and the knights followed, knights chiming in on the stories that they had been present for. Some knights would deliberately and obviously exaggerate the facts for laughs, others would insist on being truthful, much to the jeering of the crowd, who seemed to discourage humbleness when it came to storytelling... though the stories themselves praised it.

There were also stories of things that happened while King Arthur was just Prince Arthur, and his father ruled the kingdom. The tone was decidedly different when the knights were speaking about the old King.

“Do you remember how often Merlin was in the stocks back then,” an older knight laughed. “My little ones used to love those days. My wife would sometimes catch them trying to steal the good fruit to throw and when they ran out of the rotten ones.”

“Aye,” Leon laughed. “There was that week when Arthur seemed smitten with that girl – and he kept dodging patrol duty and ordering Merlin to make up excuses for him; only Merlin could only ever think to blame himself. We were all taking bets on what would happen first, King Uther finally sacking him or Merlin coming to his senses and quitting.”

“Ah, tell me you bet on Uther,” Gwaine laughed. “For if you bet on Merlin leaving, I’m afraid I’d have to question your intelligence, my friend.”

“Well, I hardly knew him back then,” Leon defended. “Besides, I think we’ve all at one time or another wondered why Merlin stays.”

“For the honour!” a knight called out. Gwaine laughed out loud, and the knight looked confused.

“For the love of Camelot,” Gwaine decided, but he said it with a wink.

“For the love of Camelot!” the room chorused and everyone took another drink. The conversation resumed.

Listening, Dean had to wonder, why it was that Merlin stayed. Granted, it was how the story went and according to Merlin, his destiny, but Dean didn’t understand how the greatest wizard of all time could happily stand in the stocks for a week and be pelted with rotting fruit. What prompted Merlin to devote his life to someone who seemed to only tolerate his presence at best, let alone have any idea of how important Merlin was to his own success? Arthur seemed, frankly, to be a bit of a douchebag.

Dean leaned over to Gwaine, lowering his voice so that it wouldn’t carry over the knights’ conversations.

“Why does he stay really?” Dean asked. “I mean Arthur... uh, no offense or anything... but...”

Gwaine smiled and shook his head, cutting Dean off.

“You just got off on the wrong foot,” Gwaine replied. “You don’t know him like Merlin does – like we do. Merlin would follow Arthur to the ends of the earth, everyone knows it – myself especially; but Arthur would do the same for Merlin. You’ve never seen him-”

“Can someone tell me why my knights have stolen ale from Camelot’s stores?!” A voice boomed out in the room. Every head turned towards the door, where King Arthur stood, looking angry.

“Sire!” Leon stood.

“And can someone tell me, why my knights are all drinking rather than training!?!” Arthur continued. Some of the knights shifted nervously on their feet, looking afraid. “And MOST IMPORTANTLY,” Arthur continued. “Can someone tell me why I was not invited!?”

Slowly the knights started smiling.

“Am I not a good king?” Arthur asked, and Dean could see now how the edges of his lips were curling up.

“Aye, My Lord!” the knights chorused.

“Then bring me some ale and let me correct the grievous lies in whatever tale Sir Gwaine has woven for you,” Arthur smiled. More than one knight rushed forward to hand Arthur a drink, and the laughter returned to the room.

Gwaine and Arthur proceeded to engage in a storytelling argument, which Dean could see was largely for the entertainment of those within ear shot.

“He does seem to have a sense of humour at least,” Sam said, as if reading Dean’s mind.

“Still,” Dean said. “It’s good Merlin has a friend like Gwaine.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, then he kicked Dean’s chair and leaned in close so that no one would overhear him. “Hey, we’re drinking ale in Camelot with the knights of the Round Table,” Sam whispered. “This is pretty damn cool, even if Arthur’s a jerk.”

Dean smiled, “Yeah, it is.”

“You started without me!” Elyan exclaimed entering the room, a handful of knights behind him. “Was it really so hard to wait until I finished my patrol?”

“It was indeed, my friend,” Gwaine answered.

“Sorry,” Percival apologized, and brought Elyan some ale. “I made sure there was some left for you.”

“How was patrol?” Arthur asked. “Anything to report?”

“No, Sire,” Elyan answered, in a more professional tone. “Camelot is calm. I ran into Merlin on his way to the lower town, and he told me that you killed the last of the beasts – I’m pleased to hear it.”

“The credit goes to our guests,” Arthur replied, motioning towards Dean and Sam. “But tell me, why on earth was Merlin on his way to the lower town? He’s supposed to be helping Gaius with the injured man.”

“He said the man was resting and Gaius was hopeful for his full recovery,” Elyan reported.

“He’s not going to the tavern is he? I’ll put him in the stocks, I really will,” Arthur declared. The knights chuckled.

“No, My Lord,” Elyan said, and then he smirked. “He was going to see Gwen’s maid, Clarissa. Apparently she was feeling unwell this morning and Merlin wanted to check up on her. I do wonder if he might be sweet on her.”

Arthur laughed. “ _Mer_ lin?” he said, as though the very notion was absurd. Dean had to admit, he doubted Merlin had time for a girlfriend. “Even if he did find a girl, I doubt he’d know what to do with her.”

The knights all laughed.

“Besides,” Arthur continued. “He’d have competition. According to Gwen, there’s a man named Thomas that’s vying for Clarissa’s heart.” At Elyan’s raised eyebrows, Arthur added, “What? I’m not allowed to gossip? She’s my wife’s maid – and it’s not like Merlin does anything interesting.”

“Well, he won’t have any competition now,” Leon announced, a furrow in his brow.

“Why’s that?” Arthur asked bemused.

“Thomas is the man we killed this afternoon, My Lord,” Leon replied.

“Oh,” Arthur said, the smile dropping from his face. “I’ll have to apologize to Clarissa – I half thought her illness today was only an excuse to see him.”

Dean felt the familiar coiling of dread in his stomach, before he even realized why it was there.

“Did Merlin say what symptoms...or, uh, manner of illness, Clarissa had?” Sam asked.

“He was bringing her Gaius’ tonic for headaches,” Elyan shrugged. “Apparently when he saw her this morning, he had to whisper so as to not cause her pain – he was surprised that she hadn’t stopped by to see Gaius herself, but Merlin figured it must have been because she was so hungry.”

“Dean?” Gwaine said. Dean could see his own dread reflected in the suddenly somber knight’s face. “Is it random who these monsters change? Or... if Tom loved Clarissa, might he have-”

“Goddamn it!” Dean said, as the pieces that hadn’t fit suddenly fell into place. “He wasn’t trying to leave town, he was trying to bring her a snack!”

Before Dean could say anything more, the colour drained from Arthur’s face and he bolted out of the room. The knights stared after him dumbfounded, then Gwaine, Dean, and Sam jumped to their feet and followed. Behind him, Dean could hear Leon shouting orders, and more footsteps echoed through the corridors.

“Please tell me you know where she lives!” Dean yelled out to Gwaine who ran ahead of them.

“Arthur does!” Gwaine yelled back, but Dean couldn’t actually see Arthur anymore. He wasn’t sure how the King managed to out run them, given that he was wearing more armour and had a shorter stride, yet somehow he did.

By the time they reached the lower town, they were close enough to Arthur to see which narrow street he turned down. When they reached the corner though, he was nowhere to be seen. Dean had a brief moment of wondering how many houses they’d have to bust into before they found the kid.

But then there was a yell so anguished that Dean’s blood ran cold.

“No,” Gwaine pleaded through gasping breaths. They drew their swords and ran to the house that Arthur’s voice had come from.

The door was already off its hinges. Inside, the table was overturned, a chair smashed, and, in the middle of the room, a body. A silver dagger protruded from its chest. Clarissa’s eyes stared unblinking from the head that rested three feet away from the neck.

What  Dean focussed on, however, was the King. Arthur sat with his back against the wall, his bloody sword on the floor beside him, Merlin in his lap, cradled to the King’s chest. One hand was pressed against Merlin’s neck, blood seeping through Arthur’s fingers. Arthur looked at Dean with terrified eyes, and if Dean had thought he looked young before, now Arthur looked like a frightened child. Arthur’s eyes were wide and wet with threatening tears, and Merlin looked impossibly fragile and small laying unconscious in the young King’s arms.

It was in that moment that Dean realized that, to Arthur, Merlin must always look small and fragile, because Arthur had no knowledge of the power contained within Merlin’s slim body.

“Has he been changed?” Arthur asked, his voice wavering.

Sam took a step forward and Arthur immediately moved his blood-soaked hand from Merlin’s neck to the hilt of his sword, holding Merlin tighter to his chest.

“Sire?” Gwaine said softly.

“What manner of beast is she?” Arthur demanded. “She bit him... she...” Arthur’s voice broke and he swallowed. “I won’t allow you to hurt him.”

“No one’s going to hurt him,” Dean said calmly, putting his sword on the ground and holding up his empty hands while he walked forward. Arthur eyed him, but he eased the grip on his sword.

“She a vampire, so she would have had to feed him her blood to turn him,” Dean continued to explain as he slowly approached. “I bet she was too hungry to even consider it – we killed her delivery man after all, right? She was just snacking on Merlin’s neck when you got here, wasn’t she?”

Arthur nodded as Dean knelt beside him. If Dean had thought that Merlin’s puppy eyes rivaled Sam’s, well... Arthur could give them both a run for their money. Arthur finally took his hand off the hilt of the sword and returned it to Merlin’s neck.

“We’ll just check to be sure though,” Dean said, and he carefully reached towards Merlin’s face. Arthur seemed to hold his breath as Dean slipped a finger under Merlin’s slack lips and ran it over his gums. Dean smiled, withdrawing his hand. “See, nothing to worry about. He’s still Merlin.”  

Arthur choked out a relieved laugh, as the fear left him.  Dean expected Arthur to make a joke or stand and pretend that he hadn’t just been clutching desperately at his servant – but instead Arthur pulled Merlin in tighter, squeezed his eyes closed, and buried his face in Merlin’s hair. Dean realized that Gwaine had been right. Dean had gotten the wrong impression – and part of him wondered if maybe Merlin had too.

Dean turned away, feeling like a voyeur. He caught Sam’s eye and could tell that Sam had come to the same conclusions. Their silent conversation was interrupted by Gwaine giving quick orders to Leon and Percival, who had just arrived.

Leon nodded to whatever Gwaine said, gave a sympathetic and worried look towards Arthur and Merlin, and then disappeared back outside. Percival entered the small house, looking worried, and Dean winced as he remembered the conversation they’d had just that morning while Merlin slept safely in the corner of the armoury.

 Arthur looked up as Percival approached.

“Let me carry him, My Lord,” Percival said gently. “We need to take him to Gaius.”

Arthur let out a long breath and then helped lift Merlin into Percival’s arms, tucking his head to rest on Percival’s shoulder. Arthur watched Percival leave, then the King gathered himself together, looking around the cabin as if for the first time.

“Right,” Arthur said. “Gwaine, you’ll have to-”

“Already done, Sire,” Gwaine said. “It’s all taken care of. Go on.”

“But I should-” Arthur started to say, glancing sorrowfully at Clarissa’s very dead body.

“You should make sure Gaius has all the help he needs,” Gwaine interrupted. “His dogsbody is currently his patient.”

“Yes,” Arthur said, “very well.” Arthur turned to Dean and Sam then, not quite meeting their eyes. “Thank you – I don’t know... if you hadn’t...”

“No problem,” Sam tried for a smile.

Arthur nodded authoritatively and then left the house with a forced casual stride.

Gwaine took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.

“Holy shit,” Dean said, “I... really didn’t see that coming.”

“I tried to tell you,” Gwaine said. “Now help me with this body. I’d like to check on Merlin myself as quickly as possible.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

They rushed to Gauis’ chambers as soon as the vampire’s remains had been handled.  Gwaine entered like he belonged there.

Dean and Sam followed with a little apprehension. They were worried about Merlin as a friend, but there was also the fact that Merlin was their only ticket home. Awesome as it was, Dean really didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in Camelot.

The only person in the main room was the man they had rescued that afternoon. He was sleeping on a cot by the fire. They could hear the murmur of voices drifting down from the stairs leading to Merlin’s room. Entering, they found the small room packed with people. Merlin was laid out on the bed, still unconscious, neck bandaged but his shirtless chest exposed above the blanket pulled to his waist. The beginnings of bruises were blooming across the exposed skin. Dean cringed in sympathy. Merlin had clearly put up a fight before Clarissa had managed to sink her teeth into his neck.

Arthur sat on a chair next to the bed, the Queen stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder and her expression worried. It was quite obvious that Queen Guinevere also cared deeply for Merlin. Percival and Leon sat at the table under the window, watching, but obviously trying to stay out of the way. Gaius stood on the other side of Merlin’s bed, looking annoyed, probably because three more people had just barged into the room.

“What’s the word?” Dean asked.

“What word?” Gaius replied.

“Will Merlin be alright?” Sam asked, elbowing Dean.

“As I was just about to explain to the King,” Gaius said, and yeah, he was definitely annoyed. “Merlin has lost a fair amount of blood and needs rest, especially since, in his current state, his ability to heal is compromised.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked.

“Arthur,” Gaius sighed. “Do you know when the last time Merlin slept may have been?”

“Why would I know that?” Arthur asked. “You’re the one that lives with him.”

“Well, all I can tell you is that Merlin has not slept here for the past three days,” Gaius said. “Nor has he taken any of his meals with me since the night before last. And I dare say, it looks to me as though that were the last meal he may have eaten.”

Dean looked back down at Merlin, and now that Gaius brought it to his attention, he could see that Merlin looked a little on the too-skinny-to-be-healthy side. Dean glanced at Arthur only to see that Arthur was having the same realization. Gwen squeezed Arthur’s shoulder.

“I told him he could finish my breakfast yesterday,” Gwen stated. “And he’d already snuck a sausage or two off Arthur’s plate when he arrived.”

“And since then?”

“The cook wouldn’t serve him when he tried to eat with the knights yesterday,” Gwaine offered, “but he managed to steal a bread roll, and I tricked him into eating the last half of my own serving by telling him that I didn’t care for the taste.”

“He slept this morning for a bit during training,” Percival spoke up from the side of the room. “He was polishing Arthur’s armour, but he looked so tired that I offered to finish while he kipped in the corner under my cloak.”

“And I tried to give him an apple this afternoon, because just looking at him made me hungry,” Gwaine said, “But-”

“But I made him throw it away,” Arthur cringed, before resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “Does someone want to tell me _why_ Merlin is not eating or sleeping?”

“According to the stable hands, they arrived this morning at dawn to find Merlin brushing down your horse, and the stable clean, My Lord,” Leon offered.

“And the washing,” Gwen said, sounding dismayed. “He came in to get it as we were getting ready for bed.”

“What about the night before last?” Arthur asked. There was an awkward silence in the room. Dean looked at Sam as they realized that that was the night that Merlin summoned them, and then stayed up until dawn getting them up to speed and coming up with a workable alibi.

“I’ll have to take the blame for that, Sire,” Gaius said. “With the recent attacks, I needed Merlin to go fetch supplies for me. I’m afraid he must have spent the night gathering them.”

Dean had to credit the old man. It wasn’t that far from the truth.

“Do I even want to ask about the eating?” Arthur groaned.

“Do you need to?” Gwaine asked. “Unless you’ve sent him on an errand, Merlin spends every waking moment by your side. Do you ever see him eat?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Sire,” Gaius said, “I think when you were a Prince, it might have been a bit easier for Merlin to attend both to your needs and work as my apprentice, but now that you’re King...”

“Now that I’m King, he also writes the majority of my speeches, helps me balance accounts, and I have far more need of him,” Arthur finished.  “I won’t deprive him of his apprenticeship with you, Gaius, as I know that was his purpose in coming to Camelot in the first place – but something needs to change.

Merlin chose that moment to shiver and then try to roll over. The pain of moving seemed to wake him a bit and he groaned. Gaius quickly bent forward to pull the blanket up to cover Merlin’s chest. Merlin’s eyes opened slowly.

“Wha’ happ’n?” Merlin asked in a whisper. Dean wasn’t even sure his eyes were even focused enough to tell who was in the room.

“You’re an idiot; that’s what happened!” Arthur declared.

“Clotpole,” Merlin replied with a soft smile even as his eyes closed again.

“I think you’re both right,” the Queen announced. Merlin’s eyes fluttered open briefly at her voice, as he obviously struggled to cling to consciousness. The Queen moved in front of Arthur. She bent over and said, “Go to sleep, Merlin,” then kissed him softly on the forehead.

Merlin made a noise of contentment and obeyed the command. The Queen then turned and faced Arthur, who immediately wrapped his arms around her hips and rested his forehead on his wife’s belly. Dean, and everyone else in the room, suddenly found the floor very interesting.

“I’m sorry about Clarissa,” Arthur murmured.

“As am I,” the Queen replied. “I’ll take care of everything in the morning, Arthur – you just look after Merlin... I’ll have someone bring you both some supper.”

“Mm,” Arthur murmured in agreement.

“Don’t stay up too late,” she continued. “He’ll be fine, Arthur.”

Dean risked a glance up to find the Queen running her fingers through Arthur’s hair before she pulled away. Dean then studied the wall over Percival’s head.

“Knights,” Arthur addressed, his voice once again commanding. “Please see that Guinevere reaches her chambers safely.”

“Yes, Sire!” the knights chorused and got to their feet. Guinevere gave Arthur a smile and then left the room. The knights gave nods to their King before following.

Dean shifted on his feet, now feeling out of place in a room with just Arthur, Merlin, and Gaius. Arthur wasn’t supposed to know that Dean and Sam had any sort of connection with Merlin and he was suddenly worried that coming to make sure Merlin was okay instead of just heading back to their rooms would be suspicious.

“We’d like to apologize, My Lord,” Sam said from beside him. “I feel as though we should have made the connection between Thomas and Clarissa sooner-”

Arthur held up a hand without taking his eyes off Merlin and Sam immediately stopped speaking. That was good though, Dean thought, mentally thanking Sam for the quick thinking – acting as though they came to apologize would help explain anything if Arthur thought them caring about Merlin’s well-being was out of character for a couple of roaming mercenaries.

“You’ll stay until we are sure the threat has passed,” Arthur said.

“Yes, My Lord,” Dean replied.

Arthur nodded in approval, “You are dismissed then.”

Dean and Sam both nodded as the knights had done and left the room. They waited until they were in the empty corridors of the castle before looking at each other. Dean raised his eyebrows, Sam let out a low whistle. And really, that was all they needed to say about that.

*

The next morning it was Callum who woke them. Without Sam even asking, Callum told them that Mary had been called to attend the King and Queen, as Merlin had been ordered to stay in bed.

Gwaine arrived as they were finishing their breakfast, and invited them to join the knights’ training session that morning. Sam wanted to talk to Merlin, but he could tell by the eager look on Dean’s face that it’d have to wait until later.

Sam had to admit that it was pretty amazing to stand in the morning sun and watch Gwaine and Dean duel. Dean held his own surprisingly well. Gwaine still won, but Dean took it good naturedly and asked for best two out of three – which only made Gwaine laugh and agree. Sam didn’t get to watch the second round though, as Percival asked him for a match, citing the fact that he rarely had a chance to take on someone his own size.

Sam gave it his all, and for the duration of the fight, his focus was narrowed down to the movement of his own body and the clang of swords meeting. Since Stanford, all Sam’s fighting had been done on the job – it felt both foreign and nostalgic to engage in pure training. It reminded Sam of hot summer days spent getting his ass kicked by Dean, while their Dad watched from the porch of whatever backwoods cabin they were staying in, guns laid out waiting to be cleaned, or journal and a pen in his hand. When Sam actually managed to land a blow to Percival’s arm – carefully using the flat of the sword so as not to cause harm – Sam actually found himself turning, by reflex, to see if he had pleased his father.

Instead of John though, he saw King Arthur, standing by the rack of swords and looking on thoughtfully. Sam quickly turned back and met Percival’s counter swing, and then was surprised when Percival nodded at him and dropped his sword.

“If that had been a real strike, I’d be too pained to continue,” Percival admitted, sweat beading down his temples. “You’ve won.”

Sam took a deep breath and smiled.

“Only just,” Sam said. He turned to look where he had seen Dean last. Only to find Dean sprawled in the grass next to Gwaine, grinning at him.

“Good job, Sammy,” Dean called. “But don’t go thinking this means anything – you weren’t up against the best swordsman in Camelot.”

“The hell that matters,” Sam shouted back, “I won and you lost.”

“I can still kick your ass,” Dean replied.

Surprisingly, the “Prove it!” came not from Sam’s lips, but from the sidelines – Sam turned to see Arthur gesture with a smile. Sam looked at Dean, adrenaline still high from his duel with Percival.

“Did you hear that, Dean? The King Arthur of Camelot just ordered me to kick your ass!”

“I think you’ll find that he ordered _me_ to kick _your_ ass,”

Sam just made a ‘bring it’ gesture with his free hand while he twirled the sword in the other. The knights all moved to the sidelines, as Dean twirled his own sword and slowly approached.

They circled each other once. Sam’s smile felt wicked. Dean gave him a wink and then their swords met. It took only five parries before Dean managed to disarm Sam with a well placed blow to the back of his hand. There were yells from the sidelines – as though the onlookers thought that just because Sam was disarmed the fight was over – but they quieted abruptly as Dean swung again, only to have Sam duck low in a bit of a bastardized martial arts move. Dean swung at nothing but air, allowing Sam to spring up and disarm him with two swift blows to Dean’s right arm. Although he lost his sword, Dean spun and then attacked with a kick. Sam saw it coming and blocked with his forearms, bringing his own leg up to unbalance Dean while all Dean’s weight was on one foot. Dean countered with his own purposeful drop, followed by a leg swipe that, unfortunately for Sam, was successful. Sam found himself on his back with Dean standing over him, lowering the sword he had recovered to Sam’s throat.

Sam had found the hilt of the other dropped sword, however, and knocked Dean’s sword away. Surprised, Dean’s sword flew out of his hand. Sam’s sword followed as he purposefully discarded it. Not bothering to make the effort to get himself off the ground, Sam wrapped his legs around Dean’s and pulled him down. They rolled on the grass, Sam using every wrestling move he could remember as he attempted to pin Dean.

Unfortunately, Dean also remembered his wrestling, and the next thing Sam knew, he was on his belly with his arm pulled up behind his back and Dean’s weight holding him down.

“Tap out, Sammy,” Dean said, his breathing just as ragged as Sam’s.

“Ugh, fine,” Sam panted, collapsing limply into the ground. Dean waited the standard three seconds to be certain it wasn’t a ruse before releasing the pressure on Sam’s arm and shifting to sit on the grass beside him.

Sam closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing and heart rate to slow. He started at the sound of someone clapping, the noise increasing as others joined in. Sam planted his hands underneath him and hoisted himself onto his knees, to find Arthur striding towards them, holding two water skins.

“That was... interesting – impressive,” Arthur said, handing water first to Sam and then to Dean. 

“Thanks,” Sam answered, before gulping down the water.

“You were going easy on my knights,” Arthur said. “As I suspected, you fight completely differently with each other.”

“Those were sword fights,” Dean explained. “That’s different.”

“You started out with swords,” Arthur countered.

“But we knew we didn’t have to end with them,” Sam said. “Dean and I aren’t actually used to swords so much as knives and fists. We also know each other’s moves – so we tend to fight a bit dirty. We’re pretty evenly matched.”

“Says the guy who just got his ass kicked,” Dean teased.

“Shut-up, I almost had you and you know it,” Sam shot back.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, but it wasn’t quite sarcastic enough, so Sam took it as the agreement it was.

“Well, one thing’s for certain, you are indeed brothers,” Arthur said.

“Was that in question?” Dean asked.

“Everything’s in question,” Arthur replied, and then he turned away to address his knights. “Alright men, we have been privileged with a demonstration of skill – pair up and put what you’ve learned into practice.”

Sam moved out of the way of the sparing sessions that were springing up on the field. The shirt under his leather armour was soaked with sweat. Someone in Camelot really needed to invent showers.

They helped Arthur coach the knights for a while, until Leon and Dean got into an argument about which one of them was a better shot and Arthur was called to judge their archery contest. Sam decided to make his excuses and slip back into the cool corridors of the castle.

He toweled off in his room. He really didn’t want to put back on his sweaty shirt, so he left it to dry on the back of a chair and then made sure the hall was empty before sneaking into the room next door – Leon’s, he thought. He borrowed a shirt that looked big enough. Hopefully Leon wouldn’t notice the shirt missing until after Sam and Dean left.

Sam decided that he might as well see Merlin on his own. Dean would probably be playing at being a knight for a good few hours yet. Sam arrived at the physician’s room to find it empty, so Sam climbed the steps to Merlin’s room, knocking lightly on the door.

There was a rustle of cloth, then, “Come in!”  Sam poked his head in the door. Merlin was sitting up in bed, wearing a simple loose white shirt, and it was only seeing him now that made Sam realize how unrested Merlin had been before. His skin seemed to have a healthier glow than before, and apparently the bags that had been under his eyes weren’t meant to be permanent, because they were absent now.

“Oh! It’s you,” Merlin said, with what seemed like relief. He looked over the edge of the bed, and a book leapt into his arms. Merlin opened the book over his knees. “I thought you might be Arthur,” Merlin explained at Sam’s look. “I have to hide the magic books from Arthur.”

“Sorry to bug you,” Sam said. “I just wanted to see how you were doing, and... you know, apologize, I guess.”

“Apologize for what?” Merlin asked.

“For not realizing about Clarissa?” Sam offered, pulling a chair over and sitting beside Merlin’s bed. “For you getting hurt?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Please, I can look after myself, and I’m _fine_. Arthur is making a big deal about nothing.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “You’re so busy looking out for him that you forget to look out for yourself – but you don’t realize that he needs you too... and, yeah...”

Merlin was fiddling with pages of his book and not looking at Sam, and Sam felt decidedly awkward trying to talk to the other man about feelings – but _someone_ had to.

“It’s kinda like...” Sam continued into the awkward silence, “sorta like Dean and me, in a way.”

At that, Merlin looked up in what for a moment looked like hope, before it was shuttered behind a more neutral expression.

“Do you really think so?” Merlin asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said, “yeah, I do.”

“It’s just... your legend, the stories,” Merlin started hesitantly, “I always liked them, but since I came to Camelot – and especially in the last few years – they’ve kind of given me a bit of... hope, I guess. It feels so strange to actually talk to you.”

“What _are_ the stories?” Sam asked.

“I’m not going to tell you your own story like a fool,” Merlin gave Sam an unimpressed look.

“Why not? I already know what happens,” Sam said. “I’ve lived through it – and I’m curious as to what’s been said about me. Us. Besides, Dean’s busy pretending to be a knight and I’m bored – and I bet you’re bored too.”

“Well, I _was_ trying to research something,” Merlin muttered, but Sam waited patiently. He had a hunch that Merlin was as curious about Sam as Sam was about Merlin. Finally, after Merlin looked from Sam to the open book and back again, Merlin sighed. “Fine, but...I’ll just sum it up quickly, and you should know this is going to feel ridiculous for both of us.”

Sam smiled, but didn’t reply. Merlin carefully marked his place in the book and then closed it, though he kept it on his lap, running his fingers over the embossed lettering on the cover.

“There are many different adventures,” Merlin said. “But the heart of the story is always the same, no matter the bard, and this is believed to be the truth of the legend. There were two brothers, and they rode around the countryside in a black chariot pulled by a black horse named Impala... and this horse was no ordinary horse, for it had the strength of four hundred horses.”

Sam grinned; he’d have to tell that to Dean later.

“Is that true?” Merlin asked.

“In a way,” Sam replied.

“Part of me wished you would have arrived with her,” Merlin said. “I wanted to see her with my own eyes... but I guess it would have been a bit hard to explain to Arthur.”

“You got that right,” Sam laughed. “But stop trying to change the subject and continue with the story.”

“When the younger boy was but a babe, and his brother not much older, their mother was killed by an evil spirit and the babe was changed, because years before she had sold her second-born’s destiny to the evil spirit for the life of her lover,” Merlin continued, looking at Sam carefully. Sam nodded. “In response, their father trained them be warriors to hunt the evil spirits for revenge and the brothers devoted their lives to doing so. They became great warriors, the greatest of their day. There came a day, however, when their father died – and before he died, he gave them a warning...he said that...”

Merlin stopped, nervously fiddling with his bed sheet where it was pooled at his waist.

“He said that Dean would either have to kill me or save me,” Sam finished, relieving Merlin of the words he didn’t want to speak.

“Yes,” Merlin nodded. “The father believed that the younger brother was destined to turn evil. But the older brother loved the younger brother so greatly that he could not harm him. And it came to pass that indeed, the younger brother was tempted and possessed by the evil spirits and made to do their bidding.”

Sam swallowed. “That’s uh... that’s one way of putting it, yeah.”

“And all hope seemed to be lost,” Merlin continued, “Except, upon seeing his older brother on the battlefield, the younger brother could only remember the love that had always been shown to him, despite their father’s words... and he was so overcome with love for his brother that he turned on the evil spirits and defeated them. Some legends end with the younger brother dying in his victory and the older brother mourning until the end of his days... but other stories have the good spirits rewarding the brothers for their love by bringing the younger brother back from death, so that the brothers could continue their fight against the evils of the world.”

“Surprisingly accurate,” Sam said around the odd lump in his throat.

“Which was it?” Merlin asked, “The ending, I mean.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Sam smiled.

“I’m glad,” Merlin smiled back.

“You didn’t know our names,” Sam stated. “Were they not in the stories?”

“They vary a bit,” Merlin explained. “I’ve heard Deinoil and Sawyl, and having met you, I know now that those were the closest. Other bards use different names. I’ve heard everything from Sion to Meirion to Urien, if you’re named at all. Part of me half expected you to be nameless.”

“Our initials were in the summoning,” Sam said. “S.W. and D.W. – Sam and Dean Winchester.”

“Ah,” Merlin said. “I wasn’t sure what those letters meant – but then, I didn’t know what any of the other lettering meant either, so I wasn’t too concerned.”

“So, tell me... what about our horrible story gives you hope?” Sam had to ask.

“Well... Dean loved you,” Merlin muttered, “even when you seemed to be everything he was raised to hate. And I just thought, maybe Arthur... I’m not saying I’m evil. Magic isn’t evil. Except... except Arthur sees it that way...”

“And you want him to love you anyway,” Sam finished.

Merlin studied the cover of his magic book like it might answer for him.

“Dude, you have to tell him about the magic,” Sam said. Merlin looked up with wide-eyes. “Hear me out,” Sam continued. “The longer you leave it, the more the fear that he’ll react badly is going to eat you up inside.”

“I’m not afraid of Arthur,” Merlin said, his chin lifting defiantly.

“Then why haven’t you told him?” Sam asked.

“I just – don’t want to put him in a position to have to choose between my life and the law of Camelot,” Merlin answered.

Sam raised an eyebrow and stated bluntly, “That might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s not stupid,” Merlin said, brow furrowing.

“You want him to change the law, don’t you?” Sam asked. Merlin nodded. “Well, he’s not going to unless he has a reason, and you said yourself that the only sorcerers he ever sees are trying to kill him. He’s not going to find a reason anywhere other than with you, Merlin.”

Merlin looked sullenly down at his magic book and Sam actually did feel kind of bad for giving the kid a hard time about his life choices.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Sam said. “It’s just, my opinion, you know? One legend to another.”

Merlin smiled, but before he could reply there was a noise from the other room. Merlin quickly shoved the magic book back under the bed.

“Merlin?” Gaius called.

“I’m resting, I swear!” Merlin yelled back. Sam bit back a smile as Gaius appeared at the door to the small room, one skeptical eyebrow raised.

“Oh, hello, Sam,” Gaius greeted. “How are your arms?”

Sam shrugged, but apparently that wasn’t enough of an answer, because Gaius quickly had Sam shirtless and having his bandages changed, all while Gaius used him as a teaching example for Merlin. Luckily for Sam, since it was just the three of them, it became a Merlin’s teaching example in magical healing, and by the end of it, the bandages were just for show. One set of scars Sam wouldn’t have to worry about.


	9. Chapter 9

After Sam’s visit, Arthur stopped by and called Merlin various names, then promoted him. Merlin could now order other servants to do his more time-consuming tasks, with the exception of maintaining Arthur’s weapons and armour. Arthur insisted that he only trusted Merlin with his sword, but not to let that go to his head.

Merlin’s routine didn’t actually change that much. After a day in bed, Merlin resumed work – getting up early and fetching the King’s breakfast. The only difference was that Arthur had ordered double portions. Once Arthur ate his normal portion, he moved to his desk and begin to go over the day’s work, while Merlin sat in the King’s chair at the table and ate the rest of the breakfast. While he ate, he would offer suggestions for what Arthur could say for each speech or letter, while Arthur made disapproving grumbling noises as usual, but wrote it all down nonetheless.

Merlin was embarrassed by the sudden attention paid to him, because really, things had been fine before. Certainly if he had been a normal servant – if he hadn’t been sneaking out in the middle of the night to kill sorcerers, consult with dragons, and summon ancient warriors, he would have been able to handle his previous workload just fine.

When he complained to Gwen about feeling like a coddled child, Gwen just laughed and asked him how many servants he knew who willingly rode into every single battle or hunt at their master’s side.

“You aren’t just a servant, Merlin,” Gwen had said. “You’re a loyal friend and Arthur is just making up for not formally recognizing so sooner.”

Merlin never could win an argument against Gwen.

Not being exhausted, however, allowed him to indulge in his fascination with the warriors – the hunters – Sam and Dean. While they waited to make sure no further monsters would terrorize Camelot, they trained alongside the knights. Arthur had them spar against each other and his men at least once a day. When the brothers fought together, it was a sight to behold – it would have been fearsome, if not for their continuous smiles and laughter while doing so. They were very well matched in skill.

Sam and Dean weren’t what Merlin had expected. Sam was kind, thoughtful, and somewhat shy. Dean was boisterous, adventurous, quick to anger. They could seem harmless one second and terrifying the next. Merlin realized he had expected them to continue to be like they had been that first night – remote, stoic, mysteriously all knowing. Instead, as the days passed, Merlin had found them to be just like Arthur or Gwaine or Percival... or... people. They were just people.

In the evening, they would drop by Merlin’s room and ask him questions about the magical monsters of his world. And Merlin would tell them stories about Uther marrying a troll, or the Sidhe trying to kill Arthur. In return, they’d sometimes tell him stories from their lives. Sometimes their stories would match the legend and sometimes not.

When they had been there a week without another attack, Sam and Dean told Merlin that it was time for them to go. Merlin nodded, a little sad. He had gotten used to them being around, and he thought they had been enjoying themselves. They seemed to be as much a part of Camelot as any of the other knights, and Merlin felt like his home was safer with the brothers in it.... but he had promised them that he would send them home if they helped and Merlin still remembered what it was like to be on the wrong end of their anger. They made arrangements for the next evening.

On their last day in Camelot, Merlin was not expecting Sam and Dean to arrive in the throne room while Arthur was holding court.

“Sam, Dean, do you have business with the court?” Arthur greeted.

“Is something the matter?” Gwen asked.

“No, My Lady,” Dean replied. “We have come to inform you that we believe that the threat to Camelot has passed and we are no longer needed here. We are very grateful for the hospitality that you have shown us, but we plan to leave this evening.”

“So soon?” Arthur asked.

“We’ve been here over a week, Sire,” Dean smiled. “That’s longer than we stay most places.”

“I only mean... we should have a banquet,” Arthur declared. “I ask you to stay one more day, and we will have a banquet to send you off, so that we can show our appreciation for your help properly.”

“Sire,” Sam said. “You’ve fed and housed us for more than a week; you’ve allowed us to train with your knights. We don’t need a banquet... but thank you for the offer.”

“What do you need?” Arthur asked. “There must be something.”

Merlin watched as Dean and Sam shared a look, and then Dean spoke up.

“Um, there is one thing,” Dean said. “If we could, we would like a private audience with you and the Queen before we go.”

Merlin tried to catch Sam or Dean’s eye, as though they could somehow communicate with him what this was about.

“Merlin should come too,” Sam added, without looking at him.

There was a pause, and then Arthur nodded.

“Very well,” Arthur stated. “After luncheon, I’ll send someone to fetch you.”

“Thank you, Sire,” Dean nodded, and both brothers left the hall.

Merlin would have loved to have followed the brothers out of the room and asked why they wanted a private audience – but he had to attend Arthur. Immediately after court, there was a meeting of council which consisted of Leon reading out the latest tax and grain collections from the countryside while everyone did their best not to fall asleep. Merlin thought Sam and Dean lucky to have not been invited.

Arthur had to lunch with a contingent of nobles, who had been friends of Uther’s, and needed to feel as though they still had the ear of their king. Merlin suffered through it along with Arthur.

Finally, Arthur made his way back to the throne room, where Guinevere was already waiting for him. Merlin had hoped that Arthur would send him to go fetch Sam and Dean, but instead he waved George away with the order.

“Do you know what this could be about, Merlin?” Arthur asked as he sat down.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Merlin answered honestly, taking his place to the right and behind Arthur’s chair.

Arthur made a thoughtful noise.

“Maybe they have a request of a personal nature,” Gwen guessed. Merlin doubted it.

Before they could speculate any further, the doors opened to allow Sam and Dean into the room. Arthur immediately dismissed the guards in order to grant the brothers the privacy that they had requested.

Merlin watched as the brothers nodded to each other and Dean stepped forward a little bit, shifting on his feet, and Merlin suddenly realized that they were nervous. The great warriors of legend were nervous about whatever was about to happen and that simple fact filled Merlin with apprehension.

“Sire, My Lady,” Dean began, and then he seemed to prepare himself for something. “Okay, so... we’ve been told – warned – that we should not talk to you about uh... what we’re here to talk to you about. But, we’ve spent a week talking with your men, and hearing their stories, and me and Sam thought about it, and we decided... we decided that there’s something that we need to tell you about a friend of yours.”

Merlin’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. They wouldn’t, Merlin thought, Surely, they wouldn’t. Sam had encouraged him to tell Arthur, but Merlin never thought they wouldn’t respect his wishes to keep his magic secret. He tried to catch one of their eyes, succeeding when Sam’s met his briefly. Merlin held Sam’s gaze and shook his head, but Sam just nodded back a ‘yes’ and mouthed ‘it’s okay’ – and what did that even _mean_.

Arthur stiffened in his seat, turning his head as if he wanted to look at Merlin – and Merlin realized that he had caught the interaction between him and Sam. Gwen did look at him, her brow furrowing at what Merlin could only guess was the obvious panic on Merlin’s face.

“Has one of my friends betrayed me?” Arthur asked, in a calm voice. Merlin winced as he remembered Morgana, Agravaine, and knew how little Arthur could stand yet another betrayal – and that’s how he would see it, if Merlin’s magic were to be revealed by these strangers.

“No, Sire,” Sam said. “It’s the opposite.”

He won’t see it like that, Merlin wanted to scream at Sam – but instead he held his tongue, helpless as he felt his world begin to crumble around him.

“You believe one of your friends betrayed you, when they didn’t,” Dean clarified.

And Merlin... well, Merlin realized that didn’t make any sense. Arthur didn’t believe Merlin had betrayed him.

“The last time you saw Lancelot was the day he stepped into the veil to heal the rift between the worlds,” Dean continued. “The man you believe took his own life in your dungeons was not Lancelot – He wasn’t even a man.”

Gwen stifled a gasp behind her hand, her eyes wide and tear filled. No one had spoken of what happened since she had returned. It was an unwritten rule of the palace that the incident was to be ignored. Merlin was simultaneously both relieved and anxious anew.

“Then what was he?” Arthur asked, his voice like ice.

“We believe he was something called a Shade,” Sam stated, “A being raised by a powerful necromancer to take the form of a deceased person of their choice. And while we cannot speak for the Queen’s affections, we do believe that the Shade was sent to Camelot with the sole purpose of seducing her and preventing your marriage.”

Gwen had closed her eyes now, a tear escaping. Merlin wanted so much to comfort her, just as he had the day he watched her leave Camelot. And just as then, he couldn’t help but think that the betrayal was the same.

“And how do you know this?” Arthur asked.

“Think about Lancelot,” Dean said plainly. “Was he the type of person to... do that to you?”

“I’ve been betrayed by those I trusted before,” Arthur replied bitterly. “He’d hardly be the first I misjudged, as much as it pains me to admit.”

Sam and Dean shared another look that Merlin couldn’t interpret, and then Sam let out a breath.

“When Lancelot returned, he did not know something that the real Lancelot should have known,” Sam said in a rush. Merlin found his heart racing once again.

“And what was that?” Arthur asked.

“Something of a personal nature about a friend,” Sam answered.

“He could have forgotten,” Arthur argued.

“I’m sorry, Sire,” Sam said, “I cannot tell you what the thing was, because it is not my place to tell. However, I can tell you that it was something that no man would forget.”

“I see,” Arthur said. “And could this ‘Shade’... is there a possibility that it may have enchanted the Queen?”

“We don’t know,” Dean answered, looking apologetically at Gwen. “Like Sam said – we just know that Lancelot did not betray you.”

Gwen let out another small sob, and this time Arthur reached over and put his hand on her arm. Merlin wasn’t sure this was helping. If Gwen was indeed the only one who had actually betrayed Arthur, how did that knowledge help? It just reopened old wounds. At least Arthur seemed to be comforting Gwen, stroking her forearm gently, rather than getting angry at her.

Then suddenly Gwen straightened.

“He gave me a bracelet,” Gwen said. “Lance- the Shade... he gave me a bracelet.”

“What?” Merlin heard himself ask. What he wanted to ask is why he didn’t notice, and why hadn’t she said anything at the time – but then, why would she? Opening his mouth at all seemed to have been a mistake, however, because it brought Arthur’s attention to him.

“Merlin,” Arthur said slowly. “Did you know about this?”

“I... had my suspicions, My Lord,” Merlin answered.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Arthur asked, angry now.

“When?!” Merlin shot back. “And with what evidence?! Besides, any time I tried to talk to you about it, you threatened to banish me too!”

“What?” Gwen asked, but didn’t wait for Arthur to confirm before saying, “Oh, Arthur, you didn’t.”

Arthur fidgeted and looked sorry, which was good enough for Merlin.

“Do you still have the bracelet?” Arthur asked, looking back at Gwen.

“No, I threw it away,” Gwen answered. Arthur nodded.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” Arthur stated to Sam and Dean, who were looking somewhat relieved that the conversation might be over. “It... does mean a lot to know that my first knight did not betray me.”

Sam and Dean both nodded.

“I’m sorry, Queen Guinevere,” Sam said softly.

“No, no,” Gwen said, putting on a tear filled smile. “I, too, am thankful to know the truth.”

“That’s what we had hoped,” Dean said, while he shot a look at Merlin. Merlin glared back.

*

Dean wasn’t expecting a send off. He thought that after the meeting with the king, Arthur would want little to do with them and they could just slip out of the castle and out of town without fuss. He’d been wrong. He found it a bit overwhelming, but definitely awesome, to be standing in the courtyard of Camelot, with the King and Queen standing on the stairs, surrounded by knights in red cloaks, formally thanking Sam and him for their help and wishing them a pleasant journey. The only one missing was Merlin, who, as per the plan, had already left the city under the pretext of gathering herbs.

Arthur had tried to send them away with replacement weapons, clothes, and traveling gear, but Dean and Sam had refused. They had no need of it where they were going, besides, they were already wearing clothes and carrying swords from Camelot. Their refusal of rewards seemed to both confuse and impress Arthur, who kept smiling and shaking his head.

“Who are you really?” Arthur asked, as he clasped Dean’s forearm one final time in farewell.

Dean found himself staring at the kid – and he was a kid – and thinking that maybe Arthur deserved more than just one truth. Dean laughed, clasping Arthur’s arm right back, but looked to Sam with the question on his mind. Sam met his gaze, bit his lip, and then nodded. The exchange took all of two seconds, but Arthur, standing as close as he was, picked up on it. When Dean looked back, it was to find Arthur’s eyes darting from Sam to his, questioning.

“Walk us to the edge of the forest, just you and no one else, and we’ll tell you,” Dean said under his breath. Arthur narrowed his eyes briefly. Dean wondered if he had asked for too much trust, but then Arthur nodded.

“I’ll meet you by the well in the lower town,” Arthur whispered, and they released arms.

Dean and Sam finished their formal goodbyes and walked out of the courtyard.

“You sure about this?” Sam asked.

“Maybe I just feel bad for the guy,” Dean answered. “It’s never nice to be lied to by the person you trust the most.”

“Jesus, Dean, why don’t you pick that scab a little more,” Sam muttered, “I don’t think you’re quite down to the bone yet.”

“Look, I didn’t mean it as a dig, alright,” Dean sighed. “You’re the one that went there. Besides, not like I’ve never done it to you too.”

Sam took a deep breath beside him. At this point, Dean didn’t know if he could actually be accused of holding grudges or if the problem was that Sam never forgave himself, but always forgave Dean too easily – but it all worked out to the same fights in the end.

“No, you’re right,” Sam said, proving Dean’s unspoken point. One of these days, Sam was going to realize that Dean was an asshat and stop forgiving him, but apparently today was not that day.

 Before Dean could say anything more, they were joined by a man in a blue cloak who fell in step beside them.

“That was quick,” Dean said.

“Hardly the first time I’ve snuck out of the castle,” Arthur said, a little out of breath, from below the cloak. “I did marry a serving girl quite against my father’s wishes, after all.”

Dean chuckled. The streets were nearly empty with sunset only an hour or two away. Arthur glanced behind him once, and then lowered the hood of his cloak. Dean had to suppress a laugh, the dark blue cloak only managed to make Arthur appear even more blond and striking. It was hardly the most effective disguise.

“So, who are you really?” Arthur repeated his question from earlier.

“What makes you think we’re not exactly who we say we are?” Sam asked in return.

“You’re not mercenaries. You’re not the type. Your manner of speech belies that; you’re too well educated. You claim to have hunted monsters since birth, yet such incidents are rare. You use words that I have never heard in Albion in all my travels. You issue orders like you are used to leading armies. You put fear into _Merlin_. You could be invaders from across the sea – you are certainly formidable warriors – and yet you come without an army. And why would you help a foreign king save his people? Why would you risk your own life to save mine?”

“Well, you do make some fair points,” Dean shrugged. “And you’re right, we’re not from Albion.”

“Did your father, or your nannies, ever tell you bedtime stories, Sire?” Sam asked.

“Of course,” Arthur replied. “What does that have to do with anything? If you are not from Albion – what land do you hail from?”

“Stick with us here, your Highness,” Dean smiled. “We’re trying to ease you into this.”

“Ease me into what?”

“The monsters we killed in Camelot,” Dean said. “We told you from the jump that they were summoned here from a different world by a sorcerer. We... followed, in a way.”

“We’re not from Albion, because we’re not from this world,” Sam finished.

“What?” Arthur asked, stopping in his tracks. “Are you... magic?”

“No,” Dean said, as he and Sam stopped walking too, “We were summoned by magic though, which was... well, part of the reason we didn’t tell you.”

Arthur seemed to need a minute to absorb the information. He blinked at that a few times, brow furrowed.

“Why did you ask me about bedtime stories?” he asked Sam.

“Elyan recognized us from the stories,” Sam shrugged. “He just didn’t realize he was right.”

Dean could see the moment that realization hit.

“The two brothers,” Arthur said. “You’re... you’re the two brothers.”

Dean nodded. “Um, can you freak out _and_ walk? We kinda have someplace to be...”

“Right,” Arthur said, and started walking again, though Dean could tell that he was very much occupied with whatever was going on in his brain. He kept glancing over at them. Dean couldn’t really read his expression, until Arthur suddenly looked horribly dejected and groaned.

“What is it?” Dean asked, stopping in the road once again.

“I met Deinoil and Sawyl, the two brothers,” Arthur said, “and made a mess of the hunt, and nearly got Sawyl killed! And... you hate me.” Dean had to wonder if everyone in this kingdom had mastered the art of looking like a kicked puppy, because _goddamn_.

“No,” Sam said. “You already apologized for that – It’s fine. All’s forgiven.”

“Listen, man,” Dean said. “I’ll be honest with you. I wasn’t your biggest fan when we met – and especially not when you pulled that boneheaded stunt with Sammy. I thought that you were a pompous idiot and a bully.” Arthur hung his head and nodded. “But, uh, then I saw that I had been wrong... you’re a good guy, Arthur. I’m glad we could help you.”

Arthur raised his head and looked at Dean in confusion, “But what made you change your mind? I’ve barely spoken a word to you in the past week outside of training.”

“When Merlin was attacked,” Dean answered. “If I had told you he had been turned, you would have built him a cage and you would have killed me and anyone else who tried to tell you differently.”

Arthur stared at him and then gave one small nod.

“No one ever uses the west tower room,” Arthur said softly. “Merlin might have been happy there during the full moons.”

Dean smiled.

“I’d have thought you’d find the idea foolish,” Arthur stated.

“Well, yeah, it’s foolish, but I would do the same if it were Sam,” Dean shrugged, carefully not looking at his brother, because this was verging on do-not-talk-about territory.

“But Sam’s your brother,” Arthur said.

“And Merlin is your... whatever you call it,” Dean said with a wave of his hand.

“Manservant,” Arthur stated.

“Right, whatever you call it,” Dean replied. They resumed walking.

“You were my favourite,” Arthur said as the orchard came into view. When Dean glanced over at him, it was to find him already blushing under Sam’s curious gaze. “Story, I mean – growing up. I thought... we were the same.”

“We ain’t royalty,” Dean laughed.

“No, but... our mothers died,” Arthur said in a tone so different than his confident commanding voice. “And our fathers...”

“Our fathers were overbearing bastards obsessed with revenge,” Sam finished, and looked over at Arthur as though he were seeing him for the first time. Dean scowled, but yeah... it made sense. Arthur even had a stupid destiny just like they did; only at least Arthur’s destiny didn’t involve destroying half the planet.

“Listen, Arthur,” Sam said. “You’re not your father. You have a chance to learn from his mistakes and be a better man – a better king – than he ever was. You’re already doing it. But you have a chance to take it a step farther, to really make a difference... and in order to do that, it’s important that you know that not all magic is bad.”

“Sam, we promised,” Dean said.

“What are you talking about? What did you promise?” Arthur asked, suddenly wary.

“Arthur, who do you think summoned us to come help you?” Sam asked.

“The sorcerer,” Arthur answered.

“Yeah, because that makes sense,” Dean rolled his eyes. “A sorcerer summons monsters to attack Camelot and then turns around and summons monster hunters to save Camelot. I gotta tell you, you’re really making me rethink the whole not-an-idiot thing.”

“Then you followed on your own,” Arthur stated, almost as if he wanted them to lie to him. Dean suddenly understood how easy it must be for Merlin to justify never telling Arthur anything.

“Arthur,” Sam said slowly, as they finally came to the edge of the forest. “You have at least one very powerful sorcerer on your side, and I just think you should know that.” They stopped walking. Arthur couldn’t follow them from here, it was too risky.

“Who? Why?” Arthur asked.

“Good questions,” Dean answered. “Unfortunately, we can’t tell you. This is where we part ways, my friend. We have to use magic to get home, and we have to be far away from anyone else in order to do it safely.”

Arthur blew out a frustrated breath. Dean had sympathy for him – they’d sort of dropped a lot on the guy in a short amount of time.

“Gwaine wanted me to knight you,” Arthur admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I told him if you decided to stay, I would.”

“Dude!” Dean said, grinning. “Really? That’s awesome!”

“It would have been an honour, your Majesty,” Sam smiled, giving a little ridiculous bow.

“I think you’ll find the honour has been mine,” Arthur replied, returning to the commanding voice of the King. “I wish you a safe journey... Dudes.”

Dean laughed, as did Sam, and they both smiled brightly at Arthur.

“For the love of Camelot,” Dean said.

“For the love of Camelot,” Arthur smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

Merlin was waiting for them in the clearing, pacing nervously back and forth in the light of the setting sun.

“There you are!” he called, rushing over and hefting a full leather bag off the ground. “I was beginning to think something had happened - you’d changed your minds and not told me or Arthur found out who you were-”

“We told him,” Dean said. “He’s cool with it.”

Merlin stared at him as though he had just told him that Arthur was a part-time hooker.

“You should give him a little more credit,” Sam added, patting Merlin on the shoulder. “You got our clothes?”

Merlin nodded numbly and held out the bag.

“Thanks,” Dean said.

“What... what did he say? How- Has he followed you?” Merlin asked, his eyes scanning the forest behind them.

“No, we checked,” Sam answered.

Merlin’s eyes went gold for a moment, but Dean figured they were proven correct when he relaxed. They told him about their conversation with Arthur as they changed into their normal clothes.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Merlin said. “Now he’ll... be curious. He’ll ask questions.”

“Good,” Dean said.

“You did this to force my hand,” Merlin accused. “It was not your place!”

“Hey, you can keep lying to him if you want,” Dean replied. “But take it from two people with experience – Destinies are a lot easier to deal with if you know what they fucking are.”

“I know what our destiny is, that’s enough!” Merlin yelled back.

“Is it, Merlin?” Sam asked. “You told me yourself – the only sorcerers Arthur sees are the ones that try to kill him. He doesn’t see the good in magic, because the good sorcerers are afraid of him... including you.”

“I’m not afraid of Arthur,” Merlin said, but he didn’t meet their eyes.

“You’re afraid of losing him,” Sam said. “It’s the same thing.”

Merlin didn’t reply, instead he just started shoving their discarded garments into his bag. Dean and Sam decided with a look that it was best to just leave the conversation there.

After a whole week in Camelot, it was weird to see Sam wearing plaid and jeans. Dean realized how strange they must have looked to Merlin when he first summoned them. Dean felt otherworldly for a moment.

Then Merlin looked up at the sky and shouted in a suddenly deep and raspy voice, “ _O drakon, e mala soi ftengometh tesd'hup anankes! Erkheo!_ ” And nevermind, Dean thought, because _that_ was otherworldly.

“What was that?” Dean asked carefully.

“I need the dragon to send you back,” Merlin replied. “Did I mention that I was a dragonlord?”

“No,” Sam said.

Merlin smiled. “He’ll be here in a few moments.”

“Hey, uh, no hard feelings, right Merlin?” Dean said. “I know you’re angry with us, but – well, we did have fun this past week, and you’re a decent guy.”

“Yeah, it was really great to meet you,” Sam added. “If you ever need us, just...well, I guess you’d have to summon us again.”

“But we totally won’t be as angry about it next time,” Dean added.

Merlin laughed. “Thanks, I... maybe you have a point about Arthur, I just... I guess a person can get used to living a certain way, and the idea of changing anything...”

“Is scary as hell,” Dean finished. “Yeah man, I get it.”

“Things are going to change whether you like it or not, for better or for worse,” Sam said. “Don’t you think you’d prefer to be the one in control?”

A large shadow suddenly fell over them and Dean looked up to find an enormous creature descending from the darkening sky. It was unlike the dragons that he and Sam had fought, that was for sure. It was unlike anything Dean had ever seen outside of movies.

“Holy shit,” Sam said under his breath and Dean couldn’t help but agree. Merlin just smiled and walked forward to stand directly under the dragon’s huge jaws.

“Good evening, young Warlock,” the dragon’s voice boomed.

“Holy crap, it can talk,” Dean whispered.

“Indeed, Warrior,” the dragon spoke.

“Dean, Sam, I’d like you to meet Kilgarrah,” Merlin introduced, still standing way too close to the thing in Dean’s opinion. “Kilgarrah, Dean and Sam.”

The dragon, Kilgarrah, lowered his head in greeting, Sam gave a little awkward wave.

“Uh, nice to meet you, I guess,” Dean added.

“I promised the warriors that I’d return them to their world after the monsters were slain,” Merlin said. “Please tell me you know how to do that.”

“Wait, _you_ _don’t know how_!?” Dean stared at Merlin.

“Maybe... not so much,” Merlin gave him an apologetic smile.

“God, you really are a lying bastard,” Dean said.

“Do not worry, Warriors,” Kilgarrah said. “I can get you home, but we must all work the spell together.”

“Um, Dean and me, we aren’t sorcerers,” Sam spoke up, “I mean, we do simple spells sometimes, but we’re not like Merlin.”

“This is true, but it is not _your_ magic that is required, but rather that of your dragon,” Kilgarrah answered.

“You have a dragon!?” Merlin asked, eyes hopeful.

“No,” Dean said. “We don’t have a dragon. Haven’t seen one for years, and last one we did see, tried to kill us.”

Merlin deflated. Kilgarrah, however, lowered his head and narrowed his eyes at them like he was reconsidering something... Dean really hoped it didn’t involve eating them.

“Perhaps you use a different word,” Kilgarrah considered. “I speak of the winged one. I can sense his mark on you.”

“Castiel?” Sam said. “Are you- I think he means, Cas!”

“But Cas is an angel,” Dean replied.

“What’s an angel?” Merlin asked.

“I thought the Arthurian myths were Christian based,” Sam muttered.

“Apparently not here, and maybe we should focus on the problem at hand!” Dean replied, gesturing to the giant friggin’ dragon.

“Right, um, okay... so, we can’t...uh... I don’t think Cas can hear us call him from another world,” Sam told Kilgarrah.

“That is where Merlin and I come in,” Kilgarrah replied. “We can only open the barrier between the worlds wide enough for your voice to get through. From there, this _Cas_ must open it the rest of the way and reach through for you.”

“And if this doesn’t work?” Dean asked.

“Well, Arthur did say he was going to knight us,” Sam answered. Dean huffed a humourless laugh.

“How about we worry about that after we try,” Merlin offered.

“Yeah, alright, let’s do this,” Dean nodded.

The dragon lowered its head and breathed on Merlin, who simply closed his eyes and stood there.

“Okay, slightly gross,” Dean said, as Kilgarrah stopped and then glared at him.

“That’s how he teaches me spells,” Merlin shrugged. “They’re just... put directly into my mind, as though I always knew them.”

“You did, I simply guide your conscious mind to the knowledge,” Kilgarrah explained. “Now, let us begin.”

With that, Merlin and the dragon shifted so that they were facing the open end of the clearing. Merlin gestured for Sam and Dean to stand in front and to the side of him.

“Uh, if I don’t get a chance to say it once this starts,” Merlin said, smiling. “I’d just like to... well, thank you, for everything, and tell you that it’s been an honour.” He then reached out his arms, palms open, and he and the dragon began to chant in a language that Dean didn’t recognize, and then their eyes started glowing gold. Golden tendrils seemed to flow from the dragon through Merlin. Dean realized that Merlin was acting as the funnel to concentrate the dragon’s magic and his own into a single point.

In front of them, the air started to ripple – as though someone was throwing pebbles into a vertical pond. Sam nudged Dean in the ribs.

“Cas,” Dean said. “Uh, I really hope you can hear me. We’ve been summoned to another world, and we need your help getting back. We got the door open on this side a little, but we need you to open it the rest of the way so we can get home.”

“Castiel,” Sam continued, “We’re just outside of Camelot, if that makes a difference. We’ve got Merlin and a dragon here. Um... please help open the door?”

*

Merlin chanted as the brothers called their angel-dragon. It was so unlike the way he summoned Kilgarrah, that part of him feared that the brothers had been correct and they really didn’t have a dragon. He wondered whether they would ever forgive him if they were trapped forever in Camelot. He wondered whether it would only be a matter of time before they told his secrets to Arthur… he tried to focus on the chanting and ignore the part of him that thrilled at the idea.

“Dean, Sam,” a deep voice suddenly filled the clearing. It vibrated in Merlin’s very bones. His hands shook with fear.

“Cas!” Dean called back, clearly delighted, though Merlin couldn’t fathom rejoicing at such a terrifying voice. “Buddy!” Dean continued, “Can you open this thing a little wider.”

“Close your eyes,” Cas’ voice rang out yet again.

The air rippled more intensely, and a light appeared in the centre of the ripples, as though Merlin and the dragon were opening a door into the sun. Merlin couldn’t look directly at it.

“Shit, I think he’s going true form for this,” Sam said, “Merlin! Dragon! Close your eyes!”

Losing the visual connection to the spell was hard, but, even with his eyes closed, the light burned.

“Goodbye Merlin! It’s been fun,” Dean called.

“Good luck! Think about what we said,” Sam said.

Merlin desperately wanted to say goodbye, but he could feel the sweat beading on his temple and it was taking all his concentration just to keep the spell going and the doorway open. The very fabric of creation seemed to be rebelling at the break in the barrier between worlds.

Then, the blinding light vanished, and the clearing was plunged back into ordinary darkness. Kilgarrah stopped chanting and Merlin felt the dragon’s magic leave him. He opened his eyes.

After the blinding light of the doorway, Merlin couldn’t even see his own hands.

“That wasn’t a dragon,” Merlin said, his heart still racing. The very presence of the being had filled him with terror and yet Dean had greeted it as though it were a friend from the tavern.

“No,” Kilgarrah said.

“Wait, are you admitting you were wrong about something?” Merlin turned to look at Kilgarrah. He could only make out Kilgarrah’s eyes glowing above him, as Merlin’s eyes adjusted to the evening light.

“The spell worked,” Kilgarrah argued. “I was correct.”

“But you were wrong about them having a dragon,” Merlin stated, laughing. “Admit it, you arrogant ass.”

“I never claimed to be infallible,” Kilgarrah said haughtily. “Best get back to Camelot, young Warlock, lest Arthur grow suspicious.” Merlin felt the rush of air as Kilgarrah beat his wings and lifted off into the night sky. The dragon flew towards the fading twilight, probably because – like Merlin – it was all he could see.

Merlin managed to find his knapsack and the swords that Dean and Sam had been using. Thankfully, he knew this part of the wood like the back of his hand. He was halfway back to Camelot before his eyes recovered from the spell.

He slipped into one of the siege tunnels so that he could return the swords to the armoury before anyone saw him and started asking questions. As he was placing the battered swords back on the forgotten rack at the back of the room, he suddenly missed the brothers greatly. It had felt good to have someone other than Gaius know the truth about him.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he had underestimated them, even though he had known who they were the entire time. In the clearing, they had called a creature to them – a good spirit, Merlin corrected himself, thinking of the stories. They had called a spirit so large his voice shook your bones, a spirit so bright that you could not actually gaze upon it – and they had commanded this spirit with simple words, no, not commanded, simply spoken to. They had _asked_ and the spirit had chosen to obey! What power the brothers must hold…

They had even corrected Kilgarrah. Merlin chuckled again. Though, he thought, Kilgarrah did have a point – it’s not like he had ever claimed to be infallible.

‘Then why do you follow his words as though he is?’ a small voice in the back of Merlin’s head spoke up. Merlin couldn’t tell if it was the voice was the influence of the brothers or of Arthur, but it made him still. ‘Don’t you think you’d prefer to be the one in control?’ Sam’s voice floated in the back of his mind.

Merlin shook his head and tried to convince himself that the brothers just didn’t understand, but the thought stayed there, niggling, as he made his way to Arthur’s chambers.

 

FIN!


End file.
